Talisman
by MidnightQuestant
Summary: They met on the most bitter of winter nights and that's all it took. They knew they could never forget each other. Not in a million years would they ever try to.
1. Chapter 1

He was freezing and starving, sitting all alone in the woods. As much as everyone else would say to go ahead and put the man out of his misery, Viktor couldn't just leave him there, enemy soldier as he may be. So, naturally, he went straight towards him without an ounce of fear.

"Hello, are you alright?" Viktor asked politely, only to be met with a confused and slightly scared look. He only then realised that the soldier must not speak Russian. He most definitely did not look Russian. His eyes were too narrow and his skin was too dark. Viktor guessed he was from somewhere in Asia, but he couldn't be sure where. He couldn't look at his uniform and tell, either, being as the whole suit was covered in snow and dirt.

"Uh, are you alright?" Viktor asked again, but in English this time. The soldier took quite a long time to respond, and Viktor almost thought that he didn't understand English either.

The soldier very gently nodded his head, looking away. Viktor knew he wasn't, even though he asked. He took it upon himself to take the soldier home to take care of him. He was an adult after all, what could Yakov do to stop him? Tell on him to his mother?

"What happened?" Viktor questioned. The soldier shivered and looked at Viktor again.

"Left behind. They took everything." He said in shaky voice. Viktor took this as his cue to tell him of his plans to help.

"Well, I suppose I should take you to where you can get help." Viktor smiled, standing up and outstretching a hand. The soldier didn't grab his hand, just looked away.

"I couldn't. I'm an enemy in your territory. You might as well kill me and get it over with." He said.

"Absolutely not. Come on, I'll feed you and give you a place to stay. My home has plenty of room for you." Viktor said, smiling again. He took of his scarf and wrapped it around the soldier's neck, swearing that he could feel the cold radiating from the man's face. The soldier stopped fighting and allowed himself to be taken to wherever he was going.

He could barely hold himself up as they trudged through the tall layers of snow. Viktor wondered exactly how long he had been there. He had to have guessed around a couple of days.

Viktor went a little quicker once he saw his home. He saw the soldier's eyes widen in shock as he looked at the manor. Viktor wasn't low on money, that much was certain. He really hoped that the soldier wasn't too overwhelmed, but it looked like he was. He pulled his arm quickly from Viktor's shoulders and fell back into the snow.

"I can't possibly go into your home. It's too nice. I'm absolutely filthy and covered in frost. Just leave me out here to die. It won't be long." The man mumbled in a pained, but somewhat monotone voice. It was obvious he had given up a long time ago. Maybe even before he had been abandoned.

"Don't talk like that. Come on, let's go inside and get you cleaned up. I can have some food made for you and then you can sleep. How does that sound?" Viktor suggested. "By the way, what's your name?"

"I. . . there's no getting out of this, is there?" The soldier asked. He had finally gotten the idea that Viktor was determined to hospitalise him, no matter how much it took.

"Nope. Now, what's your name? I want to address you properly. In fact, I'll say my name first. I'm Viktor, and you are?" Viktor said, switching from subject to subject. He had always been like this. He hated dwelling on a single moment.

"I'm Yuuri. Uh, thank you so much for the hospitality. Really, I can't thank you enough. I promise I will be gone before you know it." The soldier, apparently named Yuuri, said, bowing in front of Viktor.

"Okay, Yuuri. Let's go inside. You'll really have to ignore my younger step brother for now. Most likely my stepfather as well. I don't think they've even heard of the word compassion." Viktor smiled, helping Yuuri up again and gladly guiding him inside.

Once they were inside the manor, Yuuri's eyes opened even wider, then squinted against the light. It was bright, and Viktor can only imagine how bright it must seem after being in the forest for days by yourself, most likely not moving an inch. He just patted Yuuri off a little, realising how frozen he actually was. It wasn't long before the shivers set in, sending Yuuri into a fit of shaking, almost like a scared child.

After patting most of the snow off, a flag made itself apparent. It was sewn into the sleeve. A Japanese flag, stark against the dark green of his uniform. Viktor at least knew where Yuuri was from. So far, his name and homeland were all he knew about the man. He longed to know more, as always.

"Viktor, who in the absolute hell is that?" Viktor heard a voice yell, however it was in Russian. He turned towards the large staircase and saw his younger step brother, Yuri. The blond boy looked more than displeased.

"Someone I found. It's really none of your concern." Viktor replied, hoping it didn't seem too rude that he was speaking about Yuuri right in front of him, but in language he did not understand.

"It is my business. I live here, too. Just because you're inheriting the money doesn't mean that I'm completely irrelevant." Yuri complained. The boy could definitely complain, that's for certain.

"Just leave it, Yuri. Can't you see that he was about to die?" Viktor responded.

"You should've let him. He's an _enemy_. A _Yaposhka_. You complete idiot, Viktor." Yuri almost screamed. He hardly contained his anger. He looked like he was about to burst at the seams.

Viktor ignored his younger brother put his attention back on the small huddle of soldier in front of him, finding that he had fallen asleep, right there on the floor. Viktor couldn't blame him. But, he wasn't about to just leave Yuuri there, so he heaved him up the best he could manage and began dragging him towards the bathroom. He figured that he could wake Yuuri in there.

Once inside the room, he began prodding at Yuuri's face, trying to wake him. It didn't look like he would be getting up anytime soon. He felt rude taking Yuuri's clothes off without his permission, but he was filthy and Viktor figured some time in hot water would do his body some good, so he ignored all of his worries. It wasn't like he was going to do anything to him. He would never put someone through that. He was just going to put him in the tub and clean him a bit.

It didn't take as long to strip Yuuri as he'd imagined. He was wearing far less layers than Russian soldiers were. He figured it made sense, though. Russia was probably like Antarctica compared to Japan.

The hot water did well in making Yuuri's skin turn from a sickly purple-blue to a more natural tan colour. It also seemed to relax his body that managed to stay tensed up even during his sleep. He looked so much healthier now that he had warmed up.

Viktor took special care in cleaning Yuuri's hair, trying very hard to keep the soap out of his eyes. Not to mention that Yuuri's hair had a different texture than his did. It was far more fine and soft feeling, despite being dirty and matted. It seemed much nicer once ridded of the large collections of dirt and muck. He was actually kind of good-looking.

Viktor shook those thoughts out of his head. Not only had he gotten this boy naked without asking, but Viktor himelf was also a boy. People around his home didn't accept that type of behaviour. Viktor didn't think many even around the world did, despite how big the world is and how different cultures thought in different ways. Instead of thinking about how Yuuri was kind of attractive, he went back to scrubbing him clean.

After what felt like hours (and probably was hours), Viktor took Yuuri out of the tub to dry him. The man hadn't once stirred from his sleep. He had to have been insanely tired, and Viktor couldn't find the heart to wake him up, so he took him to one of the guest rooms near his own. He just looked so calm and peaceful.

It took a while to find clothes that would fit Yuuri's smaller body, but Viktor managed to find some of his older nightclothes. That would have to do until Viktor could get Yuuri awake to find more. He took the garments over to Yuuri's sliding them onto his body with ease and then picking the man up, guiding him over to the bed. He tried to be careful to not wake him up, although he's sure that a bomb wouldn't even stir him at this point.

After settling down from taking care of his guest, he heard the door. He hoped it was his mother, who was far more caring and understanding than his stepfather and stepbrother, but his luck had forsaken him.

"Papa, you'll never guess what Viktor dragged in this time." Yuri called almost as soon as his father entered the home.

"It had better not be another dog. That poodle he took in years ago already causes enough trouble." Viktor's stepfather, Yakov, said angrily. Viktor was certain the man didn't have any other emotions.

"It might has well have been a dog. Maybe even worse." Yuri said, knowing that he was poking a bright and hot fire. What a shit of a brother.

"What do you mean by that? The mutts he drags in aren't the worst the slums have to offer?" Yakov questioned, removing his coat and other outerwear. Viktor finally caught Yuri's attention, trying to urge him with his eyes to wait until Viktor's mother got home. Yuri just smirked.

"He was able to bring in an entire _Yaposhka_. Straight from the forest." Yuri said. It didn't take long for Yakov to realise what exactly Yuri had said and when he did. . .

"Viktor! Get down here immediately!" He screamed through the house. Viktor hoped he didn't wake Yuuri as he trudged down the stairs. Arguing with Yakov was pretty much impossible. He'd always switch the situation around.

Viktor went downstairs with no intention of giving into the older man. After all, he was pushing thirty, why should Yakov be allowed to dictate his actions? He wasn't even truly related to him and therefore had no power over him. After all, even if Viktor's mother were to pass away and Yakov was still alive, Viktor would be the one in charge then. Yakov was only married into the Nikiforov family registry, not born in.

"Why on Earth are you dragging in foreign soldiers? Do you have any idea who he is? He could be a spy for all you know!" Yakov yelled at the top of his lungs. It could make a foghorn cower in fear simply from sheer volume.

"Because he was going to get hypothermia out there. You saw how cold it was. He would have never made it out there by himself. And besides, he said that he had been abandoned by his own group, so what threat could he be? They took everything from him." Viktor tried to reason with Yakov. It was, of course, useless.

"You think that's an excuse? He could have been lying to you. You know how they are." Yakov complained.

"No, I don't know how they are. I know the propaganda against him." Viktor huffed. If he was totally honest, he was used to doing what he wanted without question. In other words, he was a little spoiled.

"Do you even know his name?" Yuri asked, shoving his way into the conversation.

"Yes, his name is Yuuri, just like yours." Viktor responded calmly.

"And a last name?" Yuri pressed further. That hit Viktor. He didn't know Yuuri's last name, and Yuuri didn't know his. They were at a mutual loss with each other.

Yuri let out a short bark of laughter before being interrupted by the front door opening and then shutting loudly.

"What are you fighting about now?" Asked a smooth, but aged voice. Perfect, just the person Viktor needed.

"Mama, welcome home. Here, let me take your coat for you." Viktor said, doting ever so slightly as to try and get his mother on his side before she even knew what was happening.

"What did you do?" Ivana, Viktor's mother, quickly snipped at him. She knew he only acted that courteous as soon as she walked in the door meant he was the root of the problem. A mother knows her son best. Viktor turned to look at her, trying and failing to hide his guilt.

"He's causing more trouble is what he's doing. He brought back someone he barely knows and expects us to let him stay here." Yakov cut in, not even bothering to let Viktor speak.

"Viktor. . ." His mother began.

"He was dying out there. Just let him stay here. I'll take care of him, you don't have to worry about a thing." Viktor said, spitting out words as fast as he could, not thinking about what he was saying.

"How are you going to find the time? Both Yuri and you have dance most days and how would Yuri's instructor react? And yours?" Ivana replied. This was getting far more complicated than Viktor cared to think about.

He had a long, long night ahead of him.

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Hello there! This is finally my first serious fanfiction on this site and I'm really excited! I actually forgot I had this account for a while haha and it's nice to be back. This is 'Talisman', a Viktuuri fanfiction set in 1940 during WW2. That's my favourite war to learn about so I figured I might as well make a fanfiction in that era. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the rest of the story that is yet to come!

-MidnightQuestant


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri woke to a totally silent home, bright daylight shining through a window and a whole lot of confusion. He could only vaguely remember what had happened. He didn't remember anything after being brought indoors. So, he was inside some random Russian home without any supplies or clue how to get out. He was completely and utterly fucked for a lack of a better term.

He didn't leave the room, frightened that he would be yelled at or forced to leave. Besides, the bed was very warm and comfortable. He wouldn't mind staying there forever, even if it meant dying there. Yuuri could deal with that.

Yuuri's whole body still ached, but he was able to note how much cleaner he felt. Even though he had fully realised that they had stripped and cleaned him, he was too drowsy to care. All energy that could be used for embarrassment was gone, only leaving little droplets in its wake. He could be embarrassed some other time.

It was still strange thinking about how he had ended up here. It sometimes seemed like it had been yesterday that he'd left Japan on orders from the military, but other times it felt like it had been an eternity. In all actuality, it had been almost a year and a half at that point. Still, he could hardly believe that any of this was happening to him.

But, at the same time, he could see why he would be left in Russia by himself. Yuuri couldn't shoot someone. It wasn't that he was physically incapable, but that he couldn't bring himself to do it. It felt wrong. The idea and especially the need for it always terrified him and made his anxiety well up inside of him until he vomited and then was shamed and harassed by his fellow soldiers for days.

When Yuuri heard a knock on his door, his immediate thought was to wait and stay totally silent. However, he knew that it was rude. This was not his home, it was theirs and he should answer the door.

"Good morning, Yuuri!" A gleeful voice practically shouted as soon as the door creaked open the slightest bit. Soon, Yuuri's vision was covered by silvery-blonde hair and a large dog. Both weights made it hard to breathe, but he didn't say anything.

"So, how did you sleep?" The voice asked again. Yuuri blinked a little, trying to focus in on a face, but found it hard to do so. He blames his parents for being as blind as a bat. It ever s happened to skip over his sister and hit him with double the force.

"Um, okay, I guess." Yuuri mumbled, trying to focus his eyes. They were starting to hurt from straining them for too long.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Here, these were in your pocket." Viktor said, holding something out to him. Yuuri just had to feel them, having already given up on seeing without them.

Turns out that they were his glasses. He thanked Viktor with a short bow and slid them on, finally able to see Viktor clearly. He could also see the large poodle, panting and wagging his tail happily next to Viktor. Yuuri had to admit, he loved dogs and this one was no exception. It took all of his willpower to not crawl over to the dog and give him the best petting session of his life.

"Uh, thanks. Um, when do you want me to leave. I'll take my uniform and go as soon as you want." Yuuri stammered. He knew he was being intrusive to Viktor and his family, so he knew his leave was necessary.

"Oh, don't be silly," the Russian man smiled. "You can stay as long as you want."

"I couldn't possibly do that." Yuuri said quietly He truly felt like a burden. He didn't want to put more pressure on the other than he absolutely had to. He already took up enough space as is.

"Nonsense. You will stay here until you are healthy again. You look like you haven't eaten in months. Come on, they have breakfast finished already." Viktor replied cheerily, grabbing Yuuri's wrists and gently pulling him to stand. Yuuri didn't reply with anything besides a nod. Viktor wasn't wrong; he had barely eaten in months, possibly even a year. He knows he's lost a lot of weight. Yuuri couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After he dressed himself in some clothes Viktor had found, he allowed himself to be guided through a large estate by a flippant and excitable man before finally arriving in what was obviously a dining room. The ceiling was high and the table was covered with a spotless tablecloth, much unlike his own home. They weren't very well-off and they put all of their money into the inn the ran. Yuuri mostly joined the military in order to provide for his family. They would've ended up in debt if he didn't join.

The food on the table would've been strange to him if he hadn't spent nearly the past year and a half traveling across Europe. One important thing that Yuuri made sure to take note of was that Europeans did not eat soups for breakfast and didn't eat nearly as much seafood.

The table had many dishes that Yuuri had only seen in pictures. It also all looked delicious. However, Yuuri was certain that a live raccoon would look delicious right now.

"Was that you?" Viktor suddenly asked. Yuuri quickly snapped out of his haze and looked at Viktor, wondering what he meant. Then it all clicked. His stomach had growled very, very loudly. Loud enough that it was probably heard all the way in France.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. . .," Yuuri mumbled. He could hardly believe that he had actually done that.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Yuuri. It's not a problem at all. It just means you're hungry. Come here and sit down," Viktor insisted, pulling a chair back for Yuuri to sit. He took the seat with another shy 'thank you'. Viktor sat in the chair to his right, smiling fondly at him. Yuuri felt his face heat up a little. He had never done well under pressure, that much was obvious. It had already almost cost him his life.

"We have kasha, butterbrots, eggs and tvorog. Take whatever you like." Viktor said, still smiling at Yuuri. He felt uneasy. It wasn't because he felt threatened by Viktor, it was because no other Russian had been this kind to him before. Hell, he was even kinder than his fellow soldiers.

In the end, Yuuri took as little as possible, trying avert his eyes away from Viktor's. He focused on eating the small amount of kasha and drinking his tea quickly and then going to earn his keep. He couldn't stay here and do nothing. At the very least, he'd be making a use of himself.

After he finished, Yuuri got up and began to clean up after himself. Viktor looked ready to object, but he stopped himself. Perhaps he had finally realised that Yuuri didn't want to be a hassle and wanted to make sure he was useful. It didn't take him long to make sure everything was cleaned and put where it belonged, especially with the 'conditioning' from living with his family and helping to run the inn for most of his life.

Once he had finished, Viktor was already standing by the door. He still had that smile on his face, but it was starting to grow on Yuuri. It was starting to look a little less overbearing and more just Viktor trying to make Yuuri feel more welcome.

"Well, my coach is on vacation, but I still have to practice my dance routine for the upcoming recital. Do you want to watch?" Viktor asked as he led Yuuri out of the room.

"Um, sure. What type of dance do you do?" Yuuri asked softly.

"I mostly do ballet but I do some ballroom as well." Viktor replied. It wasn't long before they entered a room that Yuuri was certain was a dance hall. It had a large mirror, a barre, a large open space; anything a danseur could ask for. He was sure that if he had this kind of setup, he would have never even gotten into the war in the first place. But, fate had different plans and there's nothing Yuuri can do about it now besides accept it.

Viktor pointed to a chair on the far end of the room and told Yuuri to wait there as he went to put on his practice clothes. Yuuri didn't object, he would never try. He just quietly sat down in the chair, aimlessly looking around. The room had a nice air to it. It seemed like something he would like to dance in, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, he hasn't practised in a very long time. He wasn't sure he would be able to do anything impressive.

The walls were a soft off-white and the ceilings were very high. That seemed to be a theme through the manor. He kind of liked it. It was spacious yet gentle and soft. It didn't overwhelm you somehow.

The room also contained a record player and a piano, both of which seemed pretty average for a hall like this. They fit in with the scenery of the room nicely, and in Yuuri's opinion, pulled the room together.

Eventually, Viktor returned to the room in the standard white shirt and black tights. He wasted no time in giving a small 'I'm back' and heading straight towards the record player, looking through the box next to it, sliding records back with long fingers until he finally found the one he had been looking for. Without a word, Viktor settled the disc on the turntable and put the needle on. He quickly hurried to the centre of the room before the music began.

As soon as the music started, Yuuri recognised it as Marche Slave, a piece by Tchaikovsky. It was something he had heard in a suite before, but never actually seen a dance to in person. He couldn't say he wasn't excited.

Yuuri quickly found that Viktor had a particular flow to the music. He danced in time with the sounds. Each allégro, each pirouette and each series of chaînés were perfectly synchronised. It was absolutely beautiful and was more than enough to completely enrapture Yuuri.

As Yuuri watched, he felt as if he was mere moments away from standing up and dancing himself. He hadn't even noticed when the music stopped.

"Well, there you have it," Viktor said, his face flushed from dancing and his breath heavier than before. "My soloist routine for the recital in January."

"That was amazing! I had no clue you were that good! You were flawless." Yuuri gushed without even trying to stop himself. He might as well flatter Viktor since he's being allowed to stay in the Russian man's home.

"Really? I think my pirouettes could use some work. There's supposed to be five rotations in the second sequence. How many did you see?" Viktor said. Yuuri didn't know exactly how to respond. He didn't want to upset the other, but he did only see four and a half rotations before he went into an arabesque fondu. He figured that there were only supposed to be four and a half.

"Uh, well, I don't think that only being a little off is that big of a deal." Yuuri replied nervously. Viktor thought it over before concluding that yes, it was a big deal. It was a massive deal. He was a very-serious-professional dancer after all. The real deal.

"Thanks for watching, though. I needed someone other than my instructor and Yuri to see me perform. My mother's never really home and Yakov would find any way to put Yuri above me. It gets tiring you know." Viktor said. Yuuri wondered how having your own private tutor and a large home where you could do almost anything you wanted could become tiring, but he didn't want to press.

"It's no problem, really. I've always found dancing very beautiful. You were really good." Yuuri said. Viktor smiled as he finally pulled the needle off the record that had been repeating in the back of the room.

"So, when did you first start looking at dance? I saw your eyes. You knew at the very least most of what I was doing." Viktor questioned.

"Oh, um, I actually was a dancer before. I just had to stop dancing so much when I turned twenty and then this whole war thing happened so it's not like I can get much practise time in. I still enjoy it, though." He answered. If Yuuri was totally honest, watching Viktor dance was making him miss ballet.

Before Viktor could say anything, the poodle from earlier that morning came sprinting into the hall. Viktor seemed to forget everything as he crouched to pet the dog vigorously.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you. This is my precious dog Makkachin. He's really adorable isn't he?" Viktor said, smiling still. "You can pet him, too. That is, if you want. But then again, who doesn't love dogs? Actually, I take that back, I know plenty of people who hate dogs, but here, give it a try."

Yuuri wasted no time in getting on the floor and allowing himself to be buried by a warm dog. He laughed and pet Makkachin's head as the poodle lapped excitedly at his face and wagged his tail incessantly.

It did bring back memories, though. Yuuri used to have a poodle named Viktor, or Vicchan as his family liked to call him. He felt his heart sink a little as he kept petting the dog in front of him, suddenly very homesick. Vicchan had passed away not long before Yuuri was deployed to Italy and then to Russia from there. He hoped Viktor wouldn't notice his change in mood, but it was too late.

"What's wrong? You look sad." Viktor asked. Yuuri didn't answer, just pet Makkachin's stomach once the dog rolled over, paws in the air.

"I just miss my family a little is all. I had a poodle as well, but he passed away not long before I got deployed." He sighed, resigned.

"Sounds like we have a lot in common. I'm sorry about your dog. What was his name, if you don't mind me asking." Viktor said, scooting a little closer to Yuuri as to pet his dog as well.

"Uh, it's kind of embarrassing, but his name was Viktor too. We called him Vicchan as a nickname." Yuuri said, smiling fondly at memories that came to mind of his beloved pet.

"Don't worry, it's not embarrassing. Just a coincidence." Viktor said.

That seemed to end the conversation. They just sat in silence, giving Makkachin the best time of his life. Everything was starting to seem less foreign to Yuuri, despite him only being in the house since the night before. He thinks that he and Viktor bonded well, and that was probably the reason he felt more welcomed. Regardless, it was still strange. However, Yuuri was sure that he could get used to it.

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Hello, it is me again. This chapter is finally out and chapter 3 is currently in the making.

Anyways, just some translator's notes from someone who isn't Russian, but still tries (hopefully, none of these are incorrect and I'm sorry if they are):

- **Kasha** : A type of pseudo cereal made of buckwheat. It's a particularly common breakfast food in Russia, Ukraine and Poland.

- **Butterbrot** : A slice of bread with only one thing on top of butter or margarine. (The name literally means "butter bread")

- **Tvorog** : Quark, which is a dairy product made by warming sour milk until it begins to curdle. It's usually unaged and unsalted.

Some ballet terms and what they mean:

 **Danseur:** A male dancer, typically in ballet. Alternative to the "ballerino" or just "male ballet dancer"

 **Allégro** : Very fast or brisk steps. The steps that open up to jumps are considered to be allégros.

 **Pirouette** : A spin on one foot with the other foot in another position.

 **Chaînés** : A series on small turns in which the feet are picked up on every turn. Goes in a line or circle.

 **Arabesque fondu** : An arabesque (which is where a dancer has one foot supporting them and the other stretched behind them) in which the leg supporting the dancer is bent to an angle. Seems to be most common in men's ballet.

Alrighty, there we go. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around as I continue the story.

-MidnightQuestant


	3. Chapter 3

It's been a few weeks since Viktor had taken Yuuri in and the man has worked tirelessly on what he calls 'earning his keep'. Viktor sometimes wishe that he'd stopped, but he'd since realised that it made Yuuri feel better about staying there.

He's also been a common attendee of Viktor's practise sessions. However, his instructor seemed a little less than pleased that Yuuri was there at all, and it definitely took some explaining and some pleading to not tell anyone. Luckily, he had a very forgiving coach, despite the older woman being a little wary of anyone that wasn't Russian. Viktor can't blame her with the way the times were, but he still hoped she kept her promise to not tell.

Yuuri's also warmed up a little, allowing himself to relax some. Before now, the man had very obviously worried over every little thing he said but now he's acting more like a friend than an acquaintance. Viktor figured that it was a big step in Yuuri's shoes. Viktor was immediately friendly while Yuuri remained reserved. Viktor was outgoing and Yuuri was not, and so this was most likely a very new and overwhelming experience.

They had also started to teach each other some words in each other's languages. So far, they only knew very basic phrases and could hardly pronounce them. Their accents were just very different, and that presented a challenge.

Viktor had only learned how to say 'hello', 'goodbye', 'thank you' and 'goodnight' in Japanese so far, but he was having trouble with even just those words. He had no clue if he'd ever be able to say it properly.

Viktor had taught Yuuri how to say 'hello', 'thank you', 'please' and 'goodnight' so far and the way Yuuri pronounced his letter made it very difficult for him, but Viktor found the way he stammered over the word kind of cute. He would never voice it, obviously, but he still felt himself smile a little every time Yuuri attempted to say "Здравствуйте" or "Пожалуйста".

Yuuri had asked why Viktor hadn't taught him how to say goodbye, and to be honest, Viktor didn't have a good reason for him. He didn't even have a good answer to himself. However, he keeps promising to teach him some other time. Who knows when that time will be, but someday.

"Yuuri, are you coming to watch me practise today?" Viktor asked Yuuri as he watched him clean up after breakfast. "Madame Ulyana isn't here today, so it'll just be us."

"Uh, sure. I have a question, though." Yuuri mumbled the last part to the point where Viktor barely understood him.

"Of course, what do you want to ask?" Viktor smiled. He was only getting kinder to him by the second. Who couldn't be? Yuuri had been nothing shy of a great person.

"I was wondering if I could practise with you. At the very least during warm up. Being here and watching you dance has just been making me want to try it again more and more so I figured. . ." Yuuri said. His eyes seemed to light up a little when he talked about how watching ballet made him want to do it again.

"Absolutely! You probably don't have any tights but I think that the ones I'm using currently will work as long as you pull them up a bit higher. In fact, I have an unused pair you can wear. And you can just use a white shirt from the wardrobe in the room you've been staying in." Viktor said, immediately jumping on the chance to see Yuuri dance. He was excited to see what the Japanese man had to offer.

"You don't have to let me use your new ones." Yuuri said, his eyebrows quirking in that way he did when his humility showed through.

"It's no problem, Yuuri. It's not like I can't afford new ones." Viktor hushed him, rushing to his room to grab the pair after Yuuri had finally quieted down. The tights were the typical back, just like the ones he was wearing. Viktor rarely wore white to anything but performances. They were difficult to get stains out of and Viktor just liked the black ones better.

Viktor hurried back to the dance hall with the tights and also a pair of flats he managed to find there as well, where Yuuri had already wandered to and was waiting in. It was also nice to see that he was a well-prepared person, already having put on the white shirt. Well, he is a former dancer after all, what can Viktor truly expect aside from complete control in the dance hall? He smiled softly when he saw Viktor enter the room and hand him the tights and shoes.

"Uh, really, thanks for letting me practise with you today. I've just been dying to do this again." Yuuri said, smiling. After being shown where it was, Yuuri went to a costume closet off to the side to change. He came out quickly, but he had an atmosphere to him that screamed that he was excited.

"Do you have any dances you know in particular?" Viktor asked curiously. "You can look through the records for something you like. I don't know the piano, that's Madame Ulyana's."

"Um, I'll see." Yuuri mumbled, quietly striding over to the box of records to choose a song. Viktor watched as Yuuri flipped through each record with curiosity. It wasn't until Yuuri looked back at Viktor with a defeated expression and an obvious air of embarrassment that Viktor had finally realised why the other was flipping through so slowly.

"Uh, Viktor, I can't read the labels on the records." Yuuri muttered, as if it was his fault. Viktor mentally slapped himself. How did he forget that the records were all in Russian? He had no clue himself.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry, it must've slipped my mind." Viktor laughed, embarrassed himself. He walked over to where Yuuri was and stood beside him, asking if he knew any specific titles.

"Well, I remember a dance I did when I had a partner. It was 'Le Spectre de la Rose'. I guess I can improvise some of the parts since I don't have a partner." Yuuri replied. Viktor knew that dance. He had auditioned for the Rose once when he was fourteen, but ended up not getting the part. He's pretty sure that it was what fueled his competitive spirit to its full potential.

The part went to Georgi Popovich, a friend of Viktor's. The woman he was supposed to dance with was named Anya, and she liked him then but quickly grew tired of his clinginess after that performance. The split crushed Georgi.

"I have a copy of that one. Tried out for it myself when I was younger," Viktor said, looking through the records to find it.

"Did you get the part? You seem perfect for it." Yuuri asked.

"No, the part went to a friend of mine. Thank you for the compliment, but I was not the dancer then that I am now." Viktor laughed slightly as he pulled the record out and placed it on the turntable. "Are you ready to begin your dance now?"

"Yes, more than ever." Yuuri replied eagerly. Viktor smiled at the reply. He was happy to see that Yuuri was excited to show Viktor what he could do. Viktor couldn't say he wasn't just as excited for it, ready to see any surprise Yuuri may throw at him.

Yuuri headed to the edge of the room before Viktor even put the needle down and Viktor decided to watch by the box. He could get a clear view of all the technique Yuuri would be using from there.

The music began and Yuuri seemed to immerse himself into a completely different world, improvising the Girl's part at the beginning with a few opening leaps and spins. The openings had room for improvement, but they were great for someone who hadn't practised in God only knows how long.

Once the Rose's part actually began, Yuuri truly showed his true potential, substituting parts where the Girl and the Rose were to dance together with more impressive moves. What shocked Viktor is that he seemed to be focusing on surprising himself rather than Viktor. Maybe it helped him focus. Everyone had their own way of getting into a dance. This was probably just his. Yuri was very similar in that regard.

Viktor did see Yuuri's face falter when he fell from a pirouette and rolled on his ankle. Not a contortion of pain, but of shame. Viktor could understand that face from someone like him, who danced everyday and had performances in front of large audiences that expect flawlessness, but seeing it from Yuuri was shocking. He figured Yuuri would cut himself some slack, but he didn't.

When the dance ended, Yuuri stood at the end position for quite a while. His face was still one of shame despite Viktor's impressed expression.

"Yuuri, that was wonderful! And you haven't practised at all recently?" Viktor complimented. Yuuri just looked at him with a confused, but gracious expression.

"I guess. I just think that roll ruined all of it. Not to mention that I'm not much in dancer shape anymore."

"You did very well."

"Thanks. I mean that. My old teacher was nice but really critical. What can I expect from a world renowned dancer," Yuuri laughed softly. Viktor just smiled at him. He was at a loss for words and he didn't know why. All he could think of to do was to smile and listen to the other.

After the finished, Yuuri was going to be coming home from the multi-student dance school soon. Yuuri and him didn't quite get along, and mostly because Yuri wouldn't stop being a brat. At the very least Ivana and Yakov had grown accustomed to Yuuri being there, especially since he had been making himself useful.

"Do you want me to wash these? I can return them to your room when I'm done." Yuuri questioned softly.

"No, you can keep them. I have plenty. Besides, maybe you could use them to practise more on your dancing to fix that roll you're so ashamed of." Viktor said.

Yuuri didn't question him this time. Viktor was glad that Yuuri was accepting his help and offerings now. Maybe they were both starting to understand each other more.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hey whattup. I'm back again, a little early this time. Most of the reasoning in that I'm actually grounded and I don't want to leave you with nothing before its going to be very slow until I can update again. I got into some pretty big trouble so I wouldn't be too hopeful that I'll be back on regular update schedule soon but this is, of course, assuming everything goes the way it's looking right now. Sadly, this chapter is a tad shorter the the others as well ;-;

Anyways, if you don't know, a roll in ballet is where you have bad balance and you roll (hence the name) on your joint. It's usually your ankle.

-Здравствуйте means "hello"

-Пожалуйста means "you're welcome"

And 'Le Spectre de la Rose' is a ballet with two parts, one male part and one female part. To save me the trouble of explaining it, here's a link to a video of the dance, but with both parts: watch?v=DBm8Kcr9FrQ

That's all I have to say. as always, if there are any questions, ask and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Can't guarantee how long that will be, but hey I'm trying. Thanks for reading, as always!

-MidnightQuestant


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri was exhausted after his short performance and he was fairly certain it was because he hadn't actually danced a full dance in a very long time. It felt good, but he still wasn't happy with the consequences. Not to mention that he now had a sore ankle from his mistake. He's still ashamed of it, no matter how much he tried to convince himself not to be. He was just embarrassed that he had done that in front of Viktor.

On the bright side, Viktor's recital would be coming up shortly. In a week and a half to be exact. However, it was becoming more and more apparent that Yuuri couldn't attend as the date drew nearer. He was still a secret, and a dangerous one at that. One tip off could get the Nikiforov family into serious trouble.

Yuuri sometimes felt guilty that he was such a fragile thing to hold on to and one slipped statement could bring this whole family's spotless reputation down to rubble. But, he still forced himself to stay. Not only was Viktor insisting that he did, but he was scared of going out there. He had no allies here, no one to go to once he left.

Yuuri forced those thoughts down once he heard a knock on his door. He got up quietly to answer it, almost certain that it was Viktor. Of course he was right about the Russian being directly outside the door, but he was still shy about it.

"Yuuri, it's dinner. For once, Mama, Yakov and Yuri are all here at once, so I figured it was good social time," Viktor said quickly. He didn't give Yuuri much time to answer before he was being ushered down the hall towards the dining room.

"I can walk to it myself, Viktor." Yuuri said in a somewhat stern, but still soft voice.

"I know, but I still think it's best if I bring you in myself. Maybe they won't bombard you quite as much. Also, sit by me and my mother, we're less likely to ogle at you." Viktor said, leaning close and whispering. Yuuri noticed the way it tickled. He brushed it off, but he still wondered why he noticed the way Viktor's breath felt. It was a little weird, which may or may not be an understatement.

So, Yuuri went into the dining room, sitting down near Viktor and Ivana just like Viktor had suggested. He wasn't about to defy one of the most generous people he had ever met.

At dinner, Yuuri was able to identify most of what was sat in front of him by a maid that had been one of the wariest when Yuuri first arrived. His plate consisted of pelmeni and golubtsy. The standard tea was there, and Yuri was too shy to ask for sugar or honey with so many people around. He decided to just deal with the bitterness of black tea, even if he didn't really like it.

As they ate, Yuuri allowed the family to talk in Russian, not addressing him at all. He noticed how, at first, Viktor tried to fade in and out of English, as if he was trying to invite Yuuri to join the conversation. After realising that Yuuri wasn't willing to speak up, he gave up and spoke only in Russian. If they were talking about him, he wouldn't know and he wouldn't care.

He tried to ignore the death glare Yuri was giving him from across the table. Yuuri could feel his palms getting sweaty and he tried to not drop his fork in a panic. Yuri was making him nervous, and looked like he could kill him. Yuuri had never known that a fifteen-year-old could make him feel like he was about to die at any moment, but here he was.

"So, Yaposhka–," Yuri started, earning what sounded like a good shove by Viktor from under the table before he could finish. He rolled his eyes and started again.

"So, _Yuuri_ , why are you still here? I thought you were supposed to leave ages ago." Yuri finally said. Viktor was now focusing his attention on Yuri, giving him a look that could only mean that Yuri should tread lightly.

"Well, I was, but Viktor insisted and it's rude to forsake an offer from someone." Yuuri said quietly. He could feel everyone's attention on him now and, to be honest, it made him feel sick.

"But that's Viktor. He's stupid and makes promises he can't keep." Yuri said. Yuuri suddenly felt like even more of a burden than before. Yuri was right, he should've left a long time ago. He was just taking up space at this point. More like wasting it.

"I'm sorry." Yuuri mumbled. That was all he could think of to say. His stomach had already dropped and he couldn't even bear to look at the food in front of him. It not only made him feel like he was a hassle, but it made him homesick. This wasn't Japan and this wasn't his family's little inn; this was a Russian manor that he felt so small in.

Yuuri excused himself, ashamed and on the verge of tears. He picked up his plate and cup, walking to the kitchen quietly. He could at the very least pick up after himself if he couldn't do anything else right.

His chest hurt. It felt like someone was stabbing him with a needle– just a few little pin pricks but it was enough. It felt like a shot that never faded away.

"What's got you looking like that?" Yuuri heard a deep voice ask him. He looked up to see the cook, a man from Ukraine named Aleksandr Kozel. At least, that's what he said. He came here for better work than he could find in his little hometown, and this seemed like the best place to go. They had bonded while Yuuri was cleaning over both of them wanting to see their families again, but having no surefire way to do that.

Yuuri just shrugged, trying to keep the tears from flowing. He had wished that the cook would've already gone to sleep before he got there, but he guessed that it was clean-up time from the looks of it. Aleksandr, thankfully, left it be and went back to wiping the counter with a washrag.

The rest of the time Yuuri spent cleaning his dishes was almost completely silent. Yuuri was happy for that. He didn't want to talk; he felt like he would burst into tears if he even opened his mouth. Or worse, throw up right then and there. His hands were shaking still, which was never a good sign. He was still so anxious and upset and it seemed like it would be a long time before he was able to calm down.

After asking if it would be alright, Yuuri went through the servant's door to get outside. He didn't want to be inside at that moment. Aleksandr had insisted on giving him a random coat that would fit him, refusing to send him out without one. He knew it wasn't Aleksandr's since it was around his size. Aleksandr was huge compared to him, with stronger arms and a broader chest. He'd get swallowed whole if it was.

He went outside, ignoring how the wind almost blew his glasses off. He just wanted to cry where no one would hear him. He didn't want to be more ashamed and humiliated than what he already was.

Yuuri found a spot behind a fountain in the garden. He sat down in the snow, pulling his knees to his chest. He felt everything finally well up and break free. The tears were hot against his cold cheeks and he hoped the gardener didn't decide to follow him out and hear him sobbing.

Yuuri couldn't stop thinking about what his life would've been like if the war had never happened. Maybe he wouldn't be so anxious all the time. Maybe his dancing would've taken off and he could've been a professional too. His head was full of of 'what if's and he couldn't make them go away, no matter how much he wanted to. He felt like he could barely breathe even if he was sucking in heaving breaths of air in between his sobs.

He could've sworn he was going insane. His heart was racing and he was scared of who knows what. This started because he was upset and homesick, why was this happening? He was shaking more than the leaves were and his neck felt tight, almost as if he was being choked. He wanted to run, but where would he go? This was all on the inside, he couldn't escape from it.

He tried to breathe slowly, just like his mother had taught him, but that only proved to make it worse. As soon as he began, he saw his mother's face smiling at him and he just started crying more. He just wanted to die at that moment. Everything hurt and he could feel vomit rising up. After giving up and allowing himself to empty whatever had been in his stomach before, he leaned back against the fountain. He closed his eyes, thinking of nothing. That was the only thing that wouldn't hurt him right then.

He must've fallen asleep out there, because next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by both Aleksandr and the gardener. He felt horrible. He had just thrown up all over the gardener's hard work and worried Aleksandr. They helped Yuuri to his feet, supporting him since not only was he shaking, but he was numb.

"I'm sorry for throwing up out here. You worked so hard on all of this and I ruined it." Yuuri muttered.

"All is okay," the gardener responded in broken English. "Accident. I can fix easy."

"Come on, Yuuri. Let's get you inside, you're freezing." Aleksandr said. It was almost the exact same thing Viktor had said when he'd found him. The only difference was that Aleksandr had found him in a situation far more embarrassing than being abandoned.

Once they were inside, the gardener took her leave. Aleksandr took Yuuri to the laundry room from there. He helped clean him through Yuuri's relentless apologising.

"Why are you being so nice about this? I just panicked because I can't handle anything." Yuuri said sadly. He felt empty and nothing else. Well, maybe guilt, but that was it.

"You remind me a lot of my daughter. She gets like this too, and so I guess my fatherly instincts kicked in." Aleksandr responded.

"Oh. Uh, Aleksandr?" Yuuri questioned.

"Yes? What do you need?" Aleksandr said in a kind voice, the voice he had been

using to calm Yuuri. Thankfully, it was working.

"Can we keep this between us? I don't want everyone to know." He said, wringing

his hands a few times.

"Of course, I'll keep my mouth shut, and Ms. Eva isn't a gossiper. I'm sure that it's

safe with us. Now, you should get some sleep. I'm sure there'll be some nightclothes in your room."

"Thank you. I mean it." Yuuri said. Aleksandr just smiled and told him again to go rest.

As he walked down the hall, Yuuri hoped he wouldn't run into Viktor. It wasn't that he didn't like him, that wasn't the case at all, he just knew that Viktor's excitability would be too much for him right now. He felt drained and he wanted some alone time.

He managed to make it back without running into anyone at all. He slipped into his room quietly, happy that everything was exactly how he had left it. It was reassuring, he guessed. He opened the drawer and got the nightclothes he had been using since he got there. After putting them on, he slid into bed. The bed was still comfortable and quickly warmed him up.

He didn't realise how tired he was until he got into the bed. He felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as he looked out of the large window at the stars. He took the last bit of his energy to turn off the lamp on the bedside table.

Afterwards, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep. Aleksandr was right, it was exactly what he needed.

* * *

I'm back much easier than initially planned! This is great because I was able to clear up a lot of the issues I had been having! (ฅˊ̱˂˃ˋ̱ฅ) My original schedule should be back by the end of this week, assuming I don't end up having anything backfire on me and I get the next chapter done quickly enough. That usually isn't a problem, though, so it shouldn't be now.

Here's some words that some may not know:

-Pelmeni: Dumplings with a filling (I'm assuming meat or cheese is common).

-Golubtsy: Cabbage rolls filled with meat or something else. Meat is the most common filling in Europe.

Thanks for reading, as always

-MidnightQuestant


	5. Chapter 5

It was finally the date of Viktor's recital and he was both excited and a little downtrodden. He wanted to bring Yuuri along, but he knew that would be like taking Yuuri to his own funeral.

In order to at least allow him to see the performance, he let Yuuri watch costume practise. The costume was a traditional suit-like outfit, with black trouser-tights and a pink top. It wasn't very extravagant and it fit with with the music.

Very little in the routine had been changed since Viktor had shown it to Yuuri the first time. The only things that changed were foot placements and a few rotation numbers in pirouettes.

When it was finally time to go, Viktor almost invited Yuuri along, but stopped himself. He knew better than that.

"Good luck. I'm sure you'll do great." Yuuri smiled just before Viktor left. Viktor felt suddenly more confident. He didn't know why Yuuri thinking he'd do well made him feel that way, but he assumed it was fine. They were getting pretty close after all, why shouldn't he feel pride when a friend believes in him?

Once he was in the car, he thought about the recital. Yuri would be performing as well. He would be doing a whole ballet with other people as well as a soloist routine. He would be playing the Bluebird in The Sleeping Beauty suite with Georgi and another wonderful dancer named Mila Babicheva from the dance school that Yuri went to on weekdays. According to him, Mila would be the Lilac Fairy and Georgi would be Carabosse. Honestly, Viktor thought those parts suited the two.

As always, the ride was silent. After all, it was just him and Yuri. Ivana and Yakov would be attending, but they always left later than he and his brother did. It was something they had both grown used to.

When he was younger, Viktor would practically beg his mother to go at the same time he did so he could show her the dressing rooms and all the pretty costumes everyone would be wearing. But that was just small, little nine-year-old Viktor being a tad too excited. He just goes when he needs to now. He knows Yuri is a little put off by Yakov not arriving at the same time he did. He never had. It used to be his grandfather that would, but ever since Yuri moved to St. Petersburg permanently, that stopped happening. It didn't help that the final years of his grandfather's life were quickly approaching and he was all the way in Moscow.

Viktor tried not to think about anything else but his performance during the rest of the ride. He didn't need to get distracted now; not after all the time and effort he put into this. He hasn't messed up in years, he wasn't going to start now just because he had his mind on other things.

Instead of thinking about Yuuri and how much he wanted to him to come to the performance, he decided that his best option was to look out of the window. Snow still blanketed the ground and it had fallen hard the night before. They were lucky it wasn't snowing now.

"You look nervous. You haven't looked like that in years. What's your deal?" Yuri asked, snapping Viktor out of his thoughts.

"Not sure. I guess I'm just a little upset. I think that's the only way to put it." Viktor responded, leaning his head against the window.

"It's about Yuuri isn't it?" Yuri asked, seeing right through Viktor. However, Viktor thought it was nice that his brother had called Yuuri by his name and not some racial slur he picked up while out in the city.

"I suppose. I was really hoping he could go, but that's like stamping him with 'Execute me' right on his forehead in big red letters." Viktor sighed.

"Look, I know you're all down or about it or whatever, but you can't bring him everywhere like a lap dog. But, that would be fitting, I won't lie to you." Yuri said, only just then deciding to be rude about Yuuri. At the very least, Viktor was relieved that Yuuri wasn't there to listen to jabs at his self-esteem that Viktor easily noticed was very low.

"I know," Viktor mumbled, watching as the theatre in St. Petersburg came into view.

When they finally stopped in front of the theatre, they didn't say anything to the driver. He was already being paid by their family, that was plenty thanks. The car just drove away as soon as their costumes and other belongings were safely taken from the trunk.

"Mister Nikiforov, Mister Plisetsky," the woman at the door smiled as she watched them walk up the steps. Yuri smirked at little at being called 'Mister'. "Your dressing room number is 39, everything is ready for you there."

The two just nodded and headed off. They ended up running into Mila and Georgi on the way there.

"Yuri! Are you excited? I am." Mila said, immediately attacking Yuri in a firm hug. They had always been pretty close, almost like brother and sister. Yuri usually made it seem like that no matter who he was around. He was like everyone's personal ankle-biter.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever you say. I'm here to prove that I'm better than I was last time and nothing else. Which basically means I'm better than you." Yuri fussed, trying to push Mila off of him. They bickered as Georgi and Viktor took their places as the weird reserved ones. Neither were too fond of being distracted before a performance, but maybe that came with age. They were both the same age, twenty-seven, but Viktor was just two days older than Georgi.

After Yuri was finally able to pry Mila's arms from around his neck (Mila was strong, but Yuri had been lifting a 14-year-old girl every rehearsal, so he'd gained some muscle), the group continued towards the dressing rooms. Georgi and Viktor shared only a few words before separating into their dressing rooms. The two were friends, but it was more superficial than Viktor would've cared for, especially in light of the relationship that had grown between Yuuri and him.

Viktor had to once again shake away thoughts of Yuuri. Why wouldn't he just get out of his head? Viktor can't focus with the man running around up there. As much as he wished he could think about Yuuri all day, he did not have the time.

"Your face is all red. You look ridiculous," Yuri said, slipping on tights for his solist performance. "Seriously, if it's Yuuri again, I might just have to kill you. It's Yuuri this and Yuuri that. I'm getting tired of it."

Viktor just ignored him, pulling out his costume. He hadn't noticed his face heating up. Was he really this easy to read? Had people been able to figure him out all this time and just acted like they didn't notice anything? Viktor desperately hoped not. Best case scenario, it was only easy for Yuri because he had known him for so long.

Yuri had already sped out of the room to get ready for his performance by the time Viktor had put his costume on entirely. He would be going on stage later in the night, so he wasn't in a huge hurry. Of course he wanted to see Yuri dance, but he needed to clear his head. He couldn't dance with the insane amount of jumbled thoughts.

This hadn't happened since he was Yuri's age. He couldn't begin to imagine why it decided to happen now. Yuri would say that it was because of Yuuri, and he was probably right. Viktor just didn't want to believe it.

He sighed and leaned on a wall. He tried to calm down. At the very least he wasn't red anymore. He tried to practise a little, working on his pirouette. He had only just then been sure he could accomplish all five rotations, and it was a welcome relief. He was tired of hearing it from Madame Ulyana every time she was there.

Once he heard the announcer over the microphone, Viktor decided to leave the dressing room. There were crowds of ballerinas and danseurs everywhere as he left. He got the usual glances from newer dancers he knew he had never seen before. That was normal. He was a pretty big name in the dancing world, especially the Russian one. There were always dancers whispering behind their hands when he was around, as if he didn't have eyes.

People told him that he was popular with the ladies. He never really liked any of them, but he was considerate. He wasn't going to be blatantly rude to them. After all, they're ladies, they deserve respect. He didn't have the courage to tell them he wasn't interested in them, or any girls for that matter.

The first few dancers were mostly young girls– all maybe twelve at most –and he watched all of them from the viewing section reserved for performers. Yuri's routine came after around ten other performances. He would be dancing to a male variation of one of the songs from Paquita. Usually it would be in a full ballet, but they decided to make different songs from it into individual pieces. It's a simple tactic for regulating the amount of ballets people participate in.

Viktor watched Yuri calmly. He knew Yuri would do well, he always had. His dancing was good, but it could use some work. But, for a young teenager, he was very talented. Viktor was proud of him. He remembered the days when the boy didn't even know his foot positions. He'd come a long way in thirteen years.

Before Viktor knew it, it was almost time for his performance. He hurried down from the stands in order to make it to the backstage area. He had severely lost track of time and didn't even notice until he saw a performer walk out on stage that was only two dances ahead of him.

As soon as he made it down, however, Yuuri flooded into his head again. He tried to will him to leave, but the thought of him wishing Viktor luck earlier that evening made his heart warm and his stomach fuzzy. His performance came quicker than he was prepared for. The woman before him was finishing it up, falling into an ending pose. Viktor gulped and put on a brave face. He had to come up with a solution to his feeling within seconds.

He decided to pretend as if he were dancing in front of Yuuri. He always felt more determined when he was in the dance hall with Yuuri sitting in a chair, watching him with those big brown eyes. He suddenly didn't feel overwhelmed anymore. Yes, he was in his dance hall, alone with Yuuri, with no one else watching them.

Viktor walked out onto the stage, his chin held high. He wasn't going to mess up now, especially if his imaginary Yuuri was watching him. He had to do his best.

The music started and Viktor lost himself. He wasn't under the bright lights of the stage, he was being surrounded with the gentle and warm light in the dance hall, there wasn't a large audience of people, critical of his every move, there was only Yuuri, watching him in absolute awe. That made him want to try harder, just to surprise him. Every leap and pirouette was landed as perfectly as possible.

The music stopped just as he did. The applause filled his ears and he was back in reality. He was almost taken aback by it. He had almost thought that he really wasn't at the St. Petersburg theatre. He was able to regain his composure long enough to walk off of the stage, but he rushed to his dressing room directly after.

Viktor had no clue why he was able to ignore the audience so easily. And simply with an imaginary situation like that? It was practically unheard of. He went straight to the sink and immediately began running water on his face. He was feeling warm and he hoped he wasn't sick. He didn't feel sick, but you could never be too sure, right?

He ended up staying a lot longer than initially planned. He accidentally missed part of the first act of The Sleeping Beauty. He hoped Yuri wouldn't be too mad. In fact, he might just never tell him. Yes, that should work. Yuri usually didn't care whether or not Viktor showed up at all, and if he did, he never showed it. He always put up the typical 'you're my stepbrother, not my mom. I don't need you at everything.'

The ballet seemed to be going smoothly by the time Viktor arrived. He watched the entire performance from then on, marvelling at how much all of the dancers had improved since their last full ballet recital. Yuri actually lifted up the girl properly, whereas he had almost dropped her the first time he'd done it. Viktor was proud of his brother's accomplishments and also how hard he was willing to work to get there. He had the resolve required of a dancer and used everything he could to advantage.

The other dancers that were performing, including Mila and Georgi, had also improved tremendously. Georgi was less comical and Mila had fixed her arch. They were doing far better than Viktor had expected.

As soon as the performance was over, Viktor sighed in relief. He loved it, definitely, but his head hurt and he was just in a general state of confusion. He still couldn't stop thinking about Yuuri. Sometimes, during the performance, he'd think about what Yuuri would look like doing a proper performance like that rather than just practise sessions on the weekends.

The dressing room was welcome privacy up until Yuri arrived and quickly began getting out of his costume.

"This damn thing itches really badly. Who actually thought these decoration were a good idea?" Yuri grumbled as he pulled it off. Viktor just hummed a little in response. He was still in his own head. It was like being lost in the middle of an ocean without a map, a ship or any clue where you are. In other words, it was distressing and generally horrible.

"Viktor, look at me." Yuri demanded. Viktor did as he was told, not up for another an argument then. His head was pounding enough as is. Yuri just sighed in a loud, exasperated tone, just as Yakov did when he was annoyed.

"Seriously, how do you not get it?"

"Get what?" Viktor stared with a blank expression. The younger boy slapped a hand to his face.

"You're in love. I think I know exactly who it is, too. Seriously, you look like your mutt whenever you taunt him with a treat. You're gonna either get it sooner or later, or watch as it drifts away from you. One of you has to make the first move." He said.

That's what snapped Viktor out of his haze. He had a sudden epiphany right then and there, and all because of his annoying little stepbrother. He'd have to thank him later, but he didn't have the words right then. He was still in shock himself. He didn't even care that Yuri was shoving his costumes into the covers in the most haphazard way that would surely ruin them.

"Well, we should get a move on." Viktor said quietly as he grabbed the costume he had managed to peel off and store before Yuri could barge in. "We have a home to get to, don't we?"

"You aren't going to wait for Papa and Ivana?" Yuri asked.

"I. . .I don't feel very well. Tell them I will be glad to talk when they get home. They can say whatever they want to me there." Viktor rushed out just after saying that, finding the car and telling the driver to get home.

He was pretty sure he heard Yuri call him a lovesick puppy just before he bolted out of there like the building was on fire. Well, he wasn't wrong.

* * *

So sorry to anyone who saw this earlier and is seeing it again! I realised that part of the doc had been deleted and I had to replace it. I hope you can forgive me haha ( ´_` )

Viktor finally realised how in love he is. He falls in love so fast its adorable. But, enough about that, it'll be talked about enough later!

Thanks for reading, as always :D

-MidnightQuestant


	6. Chapter 6

Ever since his performance in January, Viktor has seemed even more friendly towards Yuuri. He tended to appear as if he was hesitating. It was as if he always had something that was right on the tip of his tongue, but he was too afraid to say it. It almost worried Yuuri but Aleksandr and many of the other people that had been around Viktor for a long while said that, oddly enough, this was normal.

Even still, he often wondered what Viktor was planning to say. Of course, Yuuri's nervous side always told him that Viktor was thinking horrible things about him or was trying to find the right time to tell him to leave, but the rest of him desperately hoped this wasn't the case, nor did it think it was at all.

Yuuri had things on his mind as well. He was still trying decipher everything happening around him, but he was also getting more homesick by the day. The troop he had begun as a part of was scheduled to head back to Japan in January. It was now February, almost March at this point. If he hadn't been so useless as to not have the guts to shoot his gun, he would've never been abandoned in the first place. But, on the darker side of things, he would have never met Viktor, or Makkachin, or Ivana, or Yakov or even Yuri, who hated him.

Other than the feeling of sadness that had crept into Yuuri, life had become more predictable. He'd wake up, have breakfast, clean up and then usually watch Viktor practise or play with Makkachin. It was starting to feel more stable, besides the whole house arrest thing that had been going on due to the circumstances. He hadn't left that home since November, and frankly he hadn't planned on leaving anytime soon. With his original troop having already made the trip back home, he had no clue what to look for. He doubted that there were any Japanese troops in Russia at the moment. No country would want him at this point.

"Yuuri, I'm going to town today, would you like anything while I'm there?" Viktor questioned. Yuuri still thought it was nice how Viktor cared for him the way he did, or at least how he seemed to, but he knew it would have to end someday. Yuuri couldn't stay there forever, as much as he would love to. It's still hard for him to bear leaving Viktor behind.

Don't think about that now, Yuuri told himself, you'll just get upset. He didn't need that again.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you," Yuuri mumbled from the other room peeking his head around the doorway with a gentle smile. Viktor smiled back with that soft look in his eyes, but still some sense of longing. Yuuri felt a little warm under that gaze, and he hoped he wasn't blushing.

He had been thinking of Viktor a lot recently. He had been noticing the strangest things as well. The way his blue eyes were always so expressive, and how his laugh always made him want to laugh as well and the fuzz of hair at the bottom of his pretty silver-blonde undercut. It made him feel nice just thinking about it.

After Viktor left with a cheery 'See you this evening!', Yuuri was left with only himself, a few maids and Makkachin. Aleksandr had gone home on a paid leave to visit his family. It was almost his wife's birthday and his wedding anniversary with her. Yuuri had seen pictures off the man's family. Aleksandr had told him all about his family that night. His oldest daughter, the one he had compared Yuuri to after his embarrassing outburst a while back, was apparently very smart and always got very good grades in school while the other two were still too small to be very much of anything besides sweet little kids to care about.

His wife was a teacher. She was pretty, with bright blonde hair and a warm smile. Aleksandr talked sweetly about her and how much he missed her. He couldn't blame him for missing someone that sounded like the perfect woman. He would've been jealous if he could find the space in his head for her. Viktor already took up so much space that it was like he owned Yuuri's train of thought.

And there he was again, making Yuuri think about him. Yuuri was almost frightened of what he was beginning to think it meant. If he was truly having those thoughts, then he might as well have just left then and there. It would've probably spared him a lot of heartache and rejection at the merciless hands if someone as beautiful as Viktor.

No, stop it. He couldn't be thinking like this. He didn't think he could handle the consequences right now. Not if a little homesickness made him panic and cry outside. No, the hurt would be too much. He can barely stomach the idea.

After he finished cleaning clothes, washing dishes, replacing the tablecloth and making sure everything in the dining room was polished to perfection, Yuuri had to be practically shooed away. Three of the younger maids chuckled softly at how he was being batted out with a feather duster and chastised by the oldest maid.

If Yuuri was totally honest with himself, he cleaned to keep himself from getting bored, because when he got bored, he would begin to think. He wasn't always able to guarantee where his thoughts will end up or what they would make him do, so he just avoided the risk entirely. Now that he wasn't working in his family's inn or trying to keep from dying on a daily basis, finding something to do was becoming increasingly difficult.

Just as he was beginning to dwell on a depressing synopsis of his life so far, Makkachin came bounding up towards Yuuri, tongue hanging out as he panted. Yuuri gave his a firm rub on the head before smushing the poodle's cheeks.

"Hello there, Makkachin. Excited today, huh?" Yuuri smiled, using the tone he'd always use when talking to dogs. Makkachin let out a short yap before running over to the door leading out into the garden and pawing at it, whining loud and clear.

"Okay, okay, I hear you," Yuuri laughed. "Let's go outside. Just don't rip up anything. I already threw up on Ms. Eva's hard work already, I don't plan on having the entire garden ruined."

Yuuri opened the door to the garden, watching as Makkachin bolted outdoors. He ran after the dog, smiling. Makkachin reminded him a lot of Vicchan, and somehow it didn't make him sad to think about.

Makkachin turned around suddenly, tail wagging quickly as he hopped around. Yuuri decided that a little exercise could do them both some good, grabbing a stick from one of the nearby trees, hoping no one would notice. It was a small one anyways.

Yuuri threw the stick as hard as he could towards the open field next to the manor, watching as Makkachin sped after it, jumping in the air to try and get it sooner. It hit the ground before he got to it, but he snatched it up with just as much enthusiasm as he had started with. Yuuri wished he could have the happiness a dog had. He wanted to be as carefree as Makkachin was.

The poodle sprinted back to Yuuri, but as Yuuri went to grab the stick, Makkachin dove off towards the trees in the forest behind the manor. Yuuri was only barely able to grab hold of the stick, being dragged along by a dog that probably weighed nearly as much as he did. He got thwacked with switches hanging off of trees and thorns on branches. He'd no doubt have red stripes on his face from the torment. However, Makkachin did not stop.

Just as Yuuri was able to find a place soft enough to dig his heels in, he slammed them down into the soil. Makkachin was only inconvenienced for a few moments, because the stick snapped, sending Yuuri down, landing flat on his ass. He scrambled up, although Makkachin had already sped off into the leaves.

Yuuri noted that it was much darker in the forest, not to mention that his bottom was now wet from landing on a pile of snow and he had just lost a large poodle in an even larger forest. Things were just getting worse. Yuuri ran off in the direction that the dog had ran off to, feeling sweat creep on to his neck despite the weather.

"Makkachin! Where'd you go?" Yuuri yelled into the bleak woods. He felt relief trickle into him when he heard a bark in response. He ran off towards the sound, hoping Makkachin hadn't hurt himself. Yuuri couldn't guarantee he'd see the light of day again if even a scratch got on Makkachin. Viktor loved that dog more than he loved the air he breathed.

When Yuuri finally caught up to Makkachin after sacrificing some of his skin to the plants, he found that the dog had stopped entirely. He was standing near a tree, sniffing at the bark. When he looked over to Yuuri, he yapped, as if beckoning the man to come over near him. Yuuri walked over to the tree as well.

It didn't take him long to realise exactly where he was. He was at the tree he had been discovered at in late November. He could feel the cold seep into his bones and the imminent call of death in his ears. The exact way he had been feeling during the time he spent in this forest.

Yuuri decided that the spot was much nicer when there wasn't snow up to your knees. It looked more serene instead of daunting. Yuuri sighed softly, sitting down at the base. He had decided to give up at that tree because it was one of the only places he could see the sky. During the days he spent in the forest, he had seen other patches of sky, but when he passed them, he hadn't felt as hopeless as he did when he got to this one.

Then he remembered how Viktor took him in, not caring that he was an enemy soldier, only worried that he was dying. He did it because Yuuri was more than a uniform in his eyes. He was a person, just like the rest of them, getting lost in the earthquake called war.

Yuuri's heart swelled fondly at the memory. He felt a gentle smile creep its way onto his lips as Makkachin settled down next to him. Things were warmer now, nothing like the bitter cold he felt when surrounded by other soldiers. When he was in his troop, they were all afraid of losing their lives and didn't plan on getting attached to anyone else, just in case that person or themselves were to die. It was doing everyone a service, yet also denying them of another. Yuuri didn't know how he handled it all the way from Japan to Italy to Russia, but he did it.

Before he knew it, the sun was beginning to set. Yuuri called Makkachin, who actually stayed with him on the trip back. They somehow were able to make it back before the sun totally disappeared, but the entire way Yuuri couldn't help but wonder why Makkachin knew exactly which tree he had been found at. Makkachin hadn't been with Viktor the night Yuuri was taken in. It just really made Yuuri think about any sort of significance that spot may have had. It also made him think about how Viktor had found him despite how secluded the spot seemed to be.

"Makkachin, Yuuri! There you two are. I just got home, I was shocked when I didn't see you." Viktor said, saying something in Russian to Makkachin before looking between the two and letting out a laugh. Yuuri knew it made his stomach do backflips, but he didn't want to admit it just yet.

"Both of you are absolutely covered in twigs. What happened?" Viktor managed to say through laughs. Yuuri looked down in embarrassment, watching as leaf fluttered out of his hair.

Viktor sighed gently. "Come here, let me do it for you," he smiled, walking over to Yuuri. He reached careful fingers into his hair to pull out leaves and twigs, all the while Yuuri was blushing.

After Yuuri's hair had been cleared, Viktor threw the stick pieces into his coat pocket, saying that he'd take them back outside later. Yuuri couldn't help but notice how Viktor's hands lingered on his shoulders. It made him feel those feelings again, and he had to will them to stop. Viktor just nodded a little before extracting the twigs from Makkachin's curly fur.

"Uh, I can help. I took him outside in the first place, its only right " Yuuri said awkwardly, kneeling down to Makkachin's level and helping with the process of cleaning his fur.

"Thanks." Viktor practically breathed. Yuuri couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting glanced at and it was taking all of his willpower not to look back at Viktor just to check, but also just to see him.

Once Makkachin's fur was as clear as the two could get it, dinner came and went and it was soon time for sleep. Yuuri was met in the hall on his way to his room by Viktor, who seemed almost nervous.

"Yuuri," Viktor started, coming closer. "I just wanted to say goodnight. I know you said that you were alright, but I got you a little something, just because I could."

Yuuri's stomach clenched. For all he knew, it could a train ticket to the nearest country, just so Viktor wouldn't have to take him away himself.

To Yuuri's surprise, he felt fabric being settled into his arms. When he looked down, he saw a coat. It was blue with silver buttons and a tan lining. It felt soft and warm and looked to be his size.

"It might be a little long. I had to use my measurements to look for it. I hope you like it." Viktor said, glancing from the floor back up to Yuuri's eyes. Yuuri just couldn't stop looking at the other man. Finally, he snapped out of it.

"Thank you. I honestly don't know what to say. You really didn't have to." Yuuri muttered awkwardly.

"Well, I was out getting Yuri a gift for his birthday, and I couldn't help myself. It looked like it would suit you. I'm glad you like it." Viktor said, the airy tone back in his voice.

Yuuri stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say, just as he had told Viktor.

"Uh, so, goodnight, I guess. Sleep well." Yuuri finally spit out. Viktor smiled softly, that curve making Yuuri smile a little himself.

"Thank you. Goodnight to you as well. Sweet dreams," Viktor said.

He leaned forward and gave Yuuri a hug. It was short and was gone far too soon, but the fact that it had happened still left Yuuri stunned. Viktor had just hugged him, both arms wrapping gently around the other and gone the next moment, the warmth somehow still lingering.

Viktor just nodded a little, turning around to go to his room. Yuuri stood there, shocked. He could've sworn he saw a blush creeping on to Viktor's pale cheeks just as he turned to leave.

Yuuri finally regained his composure enough to walk into his room, sliding down the back of the door. He held the jacket to his chest. Viktor had given him something because he genuinely wanted to, not because he owed him anything. It made him feel too good. He didn't know how many more of these feelings he could handle before he burst.

Yuuri just settled the coat carefully on top of the dresser, as if he were about to break it, and pulled on his nightclothes. He slid into bed, still in a daze. He didn't take long to fall asleep, but his experience was sure to leave him thinking about Viktor all night long.

 **xxxxxxxx**

Hi, I'm back and my situation with updating is once again a little complicated. However, because I love you guys, I will try my absolute best to update as much as I can :) Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you like this chapter!

-MidnightQuestant


	7. Chapter 7

Viktor had been pining for Yuuri ever since he had the epiphany at the theatre. Simply everything Yuuri did made his bones turn to jelly and his stomach try to eat itself. Viktor had decided he was going to make a move, despite his worries. He couldn't let Yuuri drift away from him. He at least had to try.

He'd made a small crack in the glass when he had hugged Yuuri, but that wasn't enough. He wanted Yuuri to know how he felt, even if it might cause problems. The problem was that he didn't even know where to start.

Not only that, but he didn't want to come on too strong. Yuuri got nervous easily, so Viktor couldn't bear making him upset. But, he still couldn't get that silky black hair, that soft tan skin and those beautiful brown eyes out of his head. He knew he couldn't wait much longer.

The entire day through Viktor thought about various ways to get the Japanese man's attention. None of the solutions he came up with were any good. They were all too much or too little. He noticed Makkachin had sensed his distress and came to nuzzle against him.

"Ugh, Makkachin, what am I going to do?" Viktor mumbled, shoving his face into his poodle's curly fur. Makkachin just whimpered gently in response. Of course, poodles couldn't talk. Viktor had never wished for a dog's advice more than he did now.

For the next few hours Viktor considered his options, only stopping for lunch and a short dance session with the subject of his affections. That short dance session in which Yuuri showed him a performance he had choreographed on his own was what gave Viktor an idea.

He could dance with him. He had mentioned to Yuuri before that he took ballroom dance as well, mostly for formal events he was required to go to. He was suddenly more grateful for such a genre of dance.

Hopefully, of all went to plan, he would convince Yuuri that it was for practise and get him to help. Afterwards, he would try to make some move on Yuuri, whether it be through words or actions. Preferably through words because of Yuuri's nervousness.

Sadly, night came much slower than he had wanted. It seemed as if it was mocking him for being in love. After all, he was alone all these years and had done fine, so why was now any different? Well world, Viktor thought to an imaginary listener, that's just the way it was. He couldn't help it.

During ballet practise, Madame Ulyana had noticed that something was off about Viktor. He had messed up on a pirouette of all things. He'd rolled on his ankle.. That was practically a sin for him.

"Something's wrong, Vitya, I can tell. What is it? I've known you for the better part of six years, you need to open up more. I can't help your dancing if you don't." His instructor had said.

"I know. Its nothing, really. Let's start again, shall we?" Viktor replied. Madame Ulyana just raised a thin eyebrow to him.

"Is it that boy you brought in? If he's causing you problems, just get rid of him."

"No!" Viktor snapped, far harsher than he had meant it to be. "I'm sorry, but its really not him. I think a more pressing matter is that roll, don't you?"

Madame Ulyana accepted his apology and then sent Viktor back into his pirouettes. She eyed him constantly, but she had promised Viktor he wouldn't tell anyone. Breaking a promise made by Viktor could easily get her fired. She got paid good money, so Viktor doubted she would even think about tipping off the authorities. Despite the fact that Viktor tended to stray from the news, Viktor had heard on the streets that the Allies were advancing well, which meant an end of this war would come eventually. Maybe, someday, he and Yuuri wouldn't have to worry who was from where. It wouldn't matter in a perfect world.

When Yuri arrived home, he babbled to Yakov about the things he had heard. Everything from the Allies' advancements to the English lessons at ballet school. He barely spared Viktor a glance until it was time for dinner, where he suddenly seemed interested in him. In order to talk to him, he kicked him under the table. It was something they did often.

"Viktor, you've been looking at Yuuri all dinner. He knows," he said, gesturing towards Yuuri, who was looking down with a red face. Viktor felt even more stupid than Yuri was informing him that he was. He hadn't even realised.

Silently, Viktor went back to his food, only speaking up to answer questions asked of him. He was thinking over his plan to get Yuuri to dance with him. He had been daydreaming about it all day and it was almost time.

When dinner was finished, Viktor tried almost too hard to hide his excitement. He was thinking of how nice Yuuri's hands would feel when gently placed in his own, how much he wanted to see Yuuri's wonderful smile and what music he would decide to hum to their dancing.

He waited until everyone had spread out to their respective areas of the house; Ivana to the study to work, Yakov to the sitting room to read whatever news he had missed that morning and Yuri to the studio to practise. Everything was in place.

"Yuuri, can I ask you something?" Viktor said. Yuuri looked up, nodding.

"Just give me a moment to put this away." Yuuri replied. Viktor waited patiently for Yuuri to put the plate away before the man came out of the dining room. "What did you need me for?"

"You know how I mentioned I was in ballroom dancing as well?" He asked. Yuuri nodded. "Well, I was wondering you could help me practise."

"Isn't Yuri using the hall though?" Yuuri questioned. Viktor nodded, but didn't give up.

"We can just go outside. The weather's warmed up, and now you have a jacket! Come on, hurry." Viktor said, hiding his excitement behind a playful tone. Yuuri let a little blush pool on his cheeks before nodding and hurrying to get his new coat.

When he came back, Viktor couldn't help but note how cute Yuuri looked in his new coat. The sleeves went over half of his hands and the bodice of his almost reached his legs. Viktor still just smiled, leading Yuuri outside.

He guided Yuuri to the forest, claiming that he enjoyed the atmosphere better there when he was asked why they were going into the woods. Yuuri stuttered in his steps, but Viktor managed to find his hand and guide him forward. This was both for his own benefit and Yuuri's. He wanted Yuuri to feel secure, but Viktor couldn't say he wasn't doing this partially for selfish intentions without lying.

"Don't worry. We'll just be dancing, and then we can head back. I promise I would never leave you out here." Viktor whispered to Yuuri when he dropped back to walk next to the other. Yuuri's looked away defiantly, but his eyes were soft.

"I know. That won't stop me from worrying." He said in reply. His voice didn't seem to be bitter, though. To Yuuri, he was simply stating a fact. That didn't help with stopping the small wound to Viktor's pride, however. He'd have to lick it later.

When they finally arrived to the spot, Yuuri's eyes went wide in awe. Viktor decided that he liked Yuuri's shocked looks.

"Well, we should start, right?" Viktor said, his voice gentle. They didn't have to speak loud in the soft noises of night. They barely had to speak above a whisper. Yuuri responded with a hum of affirmation, turning to face Viktor.

"Which position should I be in?" Yuuri asked quietly. Viktor hadn't planned which type of dance they would be doing. He'd left out that small, yet crucial detail.

"Um, here. Just grab my hand," Viktor said, placing Yuuri's right hand in his own and holding them up, "and put your other hand on my shoulder."

Yuuri did as he was told, his face growing noticeably pink. Viktor settled his hand on Yuuri's waist, waiting for a retort of embarrassment that never came. Yuuri seemed to settle into it as Viktor began describing the motions.

"This is a very simple dance. Not much footwork is necessary. It's all in the way it feels. That is what creates a flow in the dance." Viktor said. Yuuri just nodded in understanding and waited for Viktor to make the first move.

Viktor started to hum a simple tune as he guided Yuuri around. Yuuri was a bit off at first, accidentally knocking into Viktor a few times before getting the rhythm and dancing in time with Viktor. His explanation for the incidents was that he was a ballet dancer before all of this, not a ballroom playboy. Viktor just laughed at that.

They danced in almost complete silence aside from Viktor's humming. Neither kept track of how long the continued with the slow yet steady pace of the dance, but they seemed to be incapable of letting go. Viktor had to admit, Yuuri was warm and it felt nice to have a careful hand placed on his waist.

Months ago he would've never dreamed he'd be feeling the swirl of emotions he had been feeling then. He was so absorbed in his dancing that the rest of the world didn't matter. He acted like it did, sure, but deep down be knew that he was getting too focused on dancing and losing quality in his life. He had grown lonely and distant from others and he didn't know how to get back.

Yuuri was like a nice warm furnace making your fingers better after being outside too long. It was a little strange at first and maybe even tingled and burned a little, but it always felt better in the end. Yuuri was filling the hole Viktor had created in himself and he didn't even think the Japanese man knew what he did to him. It took Viktor long enough to realise this himself and even longer to realise the hole was there at all.

Viktor couldn't help it anymore. He lifted his eyes from their feet to meet Yuuri's face, shocked to see that Yuuri was already looking at him with an emotion that seemed too familiar yet he couldn't name it.

Viktor will never be able to properly describe the feeling that coursed through him when their eyes met. It was like being struck with lightning, but instead of pain, there was only warmth. It was sharp and shot straight through his heart, clean and precise. That's the best way he can think to put it.

Yuuri just looked into his eyes, unable to look away. Viktor wasn't much better. He figured he must have the worst blank expression, but he didn't care in that moment.

He didn't know when his eyes closed or when Yuuri's face got so close, but he got another bolt of electricity running through him as soon as their lips met. He never wanted this point in time to stray. It was like everything wasn't war-torn and there was no anger and no hatred. Yes, Viktor's ideal world where everything made sense and nothing hurt.

When they separated, Viktor almost went back to Yuuri's lips. He wanted more. They were like a safe haven for him. Magic, perhaps. Instead he got a set of fingers carefully sweeping away his bangs.

"You have the most magnificent eyes." Yuuri mumbled absentmindedly. His glasses were slowly sliding down his nose.

"You have the most magnificent lips." Viktor replied without thinking. He only made time for embarrassment once Yuuri snapped out of his own haze to chuckle softly at Viktor. All traces of this were gone once arms wrapped around him and a head rested against him.

"Yuuri?" Viktor sighed. Yuuri hummed back. "I think. . . I think I might be in love with you. No, I'm certain of it."

Yuuri laughed a little more, a practically angelic sound. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm absolutely smitten."

So, Viktor thought to himself whilst hugging everything that dreams were made of, this is what being in love feels like.

 **xxxxxxx**

We finally made it to the kiss! I tried to make this scene so tooth rottingly fluffy but idk if I really succeeded. Even so I hope you liked it. Just a heads up though:

This is only the beginning

-MidnightQuestant


	8. Chapter 8

Yuuri had never felt happier than he did during the kiss. It felt right; more right than holding a rifle, that's for sure. But it'd been nearly two weeks since that first kiss and reality had starting setting in once more.

On the bright side, he had been able to hug Viktor, which eased his mind a little. He'd never truly admired how well built Viktor was. He was lean and well-defined, but still warm and cuddly. Yuuri couldn't get enough of it. The perfect danseur body mixed with the softness of someone truly lovely.

Viktor was almost always happy to give Yuuri a hug, whether the man really needed it or not. He practically read Yuuri's mind every time they looked at each other. Whether it was short or long, Viktor always held his arms out with a smile.

Yuuri, despite all of the wonderful things happening to and around him, still worried. He was still himself. He heard that the war was changing tides. There were more countries with the Allies now, and almost none supported the Axis besides those in the Axis. Yuuri worried not only about his homeland, but his family in particular. He hadn't talked to them in a long time and they probably presumed him dead when he didn't return home with the others. This war was deadly, after all.

Yuuri, having already stumbled into a conversation with the man and let him into his room, told Viktor about all of this.

"They probably think I'm MIA or something. It happens a lot to us, whether it was truthful or not, we'll most likely never know. We still have some MIAs from the first World War who haven't been seen since." Yuuri mumbled, laying on the bed near Viktor. His head had begun to hurt.

"MM," Viktor mumbled before starting again, "that's horrible, but what is an MIA?"

"Oh, I didn't even think about using that term. Sorry. It means Missing In Action. Basically, a soldier is lost and no one can find them or, like my case, we're deserted and no one cares enough to find us. We usually never come home."

Viktor gasped. He wasn't used to just casually talking about things like that. It probably confused him as to why things like this happened or even existed at all.

"Why would people just let them go without ever trying to find them?" Viktor questioned, curious.

"Well, people do anything to survive, even if it means getting rid of weak links. It wasn't just my life on the line. There were about fifty of us, all cold, tired, hungry and missing home. If you couldn't do your job, you were out. We didn't have time to go look for people unless we found them quickly. It's not like we could launch a full investigation. We started with sixty. By the time we made it to Russia, we had lost eleven of us, either to death or other circumstances." Yuuri answered. Viktor still seemed perplexed by the idea of just leaving someone behind, but he left it be, moving onto another topic instead.

"You mentioned earlier that you hadn't talked to your family in a long time. How long exactly?" he asked.

"I haven't talked to them face-to-face in a little over a year, but I sent letters for a while. Everyone in my troop did so long as they had loved ones to send them to. But we ended up in a situation somewhere between here and Italy and we couldn't anymore. So, it's been nearly nine months since they've heard from me." Yuuri replied. "But, enough about me, I want to ask you some questions. What made you want to take me in?"

"This again, Yuuri? Because I can't just leave someone, especially when I can help." Viktor said, getting close enough to Yuuri so he could grab his hand. "And I knew I could get you help, so I did. I think it was the right decision, even if Yakov and Yuri are mean to you."

"They aren't that mean. I've dealt with worse." Yuuri sighed. "I wish I had the strength to help people. I've left so many people behind because I felt. . . hopeless. I couldn't see myself or anyone ever finding them alive again."

"Don't talk like that. You are strong; one of the strongest I've ever met," Viktor said. Yuuri scoffed, but kept listening. "I'm serious. You're stronger than you realise. I know I couldn't find the courage in myself to join the army to help my country. And, yes, I know you didn't do it because you wanted to, but that's what makes you strong. You did what you needed to instead of cowering.

"Sometimes I do wonder what it would have been like if we had met in another time. In a time of peace, to be exact. Maybe where we came from wouldn't mean so much. Maybe our actions in the past few years would be just that; the past." Viktor said, finally letting out many of the things he had been holding in for a while. Things from his ideal world to his feelings about Yuuri's character. They were all important to him and he finally said them out loud.

"Viktor, I. . . I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you saw things." Yuuri stammered, his voice shy. Viktor just moved his hand from Yuuri's to lay down and wrap the man in his arms.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Even if we love each other, we won't always think the same way." Viktor said. He rested his head on Yuuri's shoulder, now staying quiet. Yuuri liked the feeling that coursed through him when Viktor had said that. Yuuri really did love Viktor and now it was set in stone that Viktor loved him back.

He stared at the ceiling until he felt Viktor's breath become even and the man go totally silent except for gentle breaths. He had fallen asleep. Yuuri felt his face warm up and his fingers tingle. He decided to look at Viktor for a moment, just to get a quiet and serene moment to truly take him in.

Yuuri still had a hard time believing that someone like Viktor could love someone like himself. He was meek, quiet and could be a real hassle at times. But, Viktor did, and he wasn't one to tell someone who they can and cannot love. He can't stop him, and he'd rather have Viktor by his side anyways.

The door downstairs is what woke Viktor. He lifted himself off of Yuuri reluctantly, pulling the other up with him, still demanding to be held.

"Viktor, we have to go downstairs." Yuuri said, but still complied with his request to be cuddled. Viktor just whined in response, pressing his face into Yuuri's neck.

"But I was sleeping so well." Viktor said, the softest hint of a yawn in his voice.

"I know, but I want to help with dinner and Makkachin probably wants to be played with, don't you think?" Yuuri reasoned, trying to get up and drag Viktor with him.

"I guess you're right." Viktor sighed, getting up finally. He still held Yuuri for a moment. "You forgot to let me do this, though." He said, then gave Yuuri a quick kiss to his cheek. Yuuri flushed, and just let Viktor pull him around to go downstairs.

Makkachin did want to played with, and that's exactly what Viktor did. While Yuuri went in the kitchen to help cook, Viktor went outside with Makkachin.

Aleksandr had returned home from his trip to see his family, and he was in the kitchen when Yuuri walked in.

"Ah, Yuuri, come to help out again?" He asked, his voice still deep and kindly.

"Yes, I did. Do you have anything that needs to be done?" Yuuri replied. Aleksandr said something about him being the most help he'd had in ages and sent him off to cut some vegetables.

As Yuuri sliced through the carrots with precision he had gained from a life at his family's inn, he thought about Viktor. He couldn't get him off of his mind even if they had finally been requited. Yuuri guessed that he was just going to have to get used to it. He didn't even try to fight it anymore.

"You're thinking, aren't you?" Aleksandr asked, coming over with butchered meat and a cooking dish. "You've got that face on. It's good thoughts, I hope?"

"I am thinking. And yes, they are good thoughts this time." Yuuri said. "I just can't seem to get them out of my head."

"Oh, I know all about how that feels." Aleksandr mused, taking the cut up carrots and setting them alongside the other things in the pan.

"What do you mean by that?" Yuuri questioned.

"It's obvious, Yuuri. You love someone. And I think that someone is outside playing with a dog right now." Aleksandr said, gesturing with his head to the window that faced the garden. After noticing Yuuri's irked look, he raised up his hands innocently. "I won't press. But, I have to say that this is good for Viktor. He's always been so lonely."

"What do you mean he was lonely?" Yuuri asked, knowing that he was asking too many questions, but just couldn't picture Viktor as a loner. He was so charismatic that Yuuri had assumed that he had many friends.

"Well, he can make friends, but it's keeping them that he's always had trouble with. They just kind of flow in and out of his life and he stopped caring at some point. I think it has to do with how young he was when he went into professional dancing. Fourteen years old was his professional debut." Aleksandr said, moving the dish to the oven. "Believe it or not, Yuri has far better people skills than Viktor does. Viktor is much calmer, yes, but that doesn't make him good with people."

Yuuri nodded, sneaking a glance out of the window to see if Viktor was still outside. He smiled gently when he saw that Viktor was occupied with a happy Makkachin on top of him, licking away at his face. Yuuri could see that he was laughing. It made Yuuri happy, just to see Viktor having a fun time.

He stayed in the kitchen with Aleksandr until dinner was done. He helped set the table, clean up after cooking and fill plates before anyone ever got there. Aleksandr had praised him on how well he could do these jobs, and Yuuri just sheepishly accepted the compliments. He was getting more used to them now. He hoped he wasn't getting narcissistic.

Viktor insisted on sitting next to Yuuri at dinner. Yuuri let it happen, wanting Viktor to be there, but not wanting to seem too eager. As far as he knew, him and Viktor were a secret from everyone in this house. Well, maybe aside from Aleksandr, but that was different.

Viktor pushed his leg against Yuuri's as he happily chatted with his family. He still did the polite thing and swayed in and out of Russian so that Yuuri didn't feel left out, but Yuuri wasn't even really listening. He was more concerned that Viktor was nudging his legs under the table, and acted like he wasn't above the table. He just ate quietly.

After dinner, Viktor caught Yuuri in the hallway.

"Yuuri, come sleep in my room tonight." Viktor practically sang the words. Yuuri blushed heavily.

"Why?" He mumbled. Viktor sighed, pulling Yuuri closer.

"Because I get lonely and you're warm." He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. In Viktor's head, it probably was. After some debating, Yuuri finally gave in and followed Viktor to his room. He was nervous and bashful.

Viktor's room was quite a bit larger than the one Yuuri had been staying in. It felt more lived-in, too, despite the fact that Yuuri had been staying in the guest room for almost six months now. Yuuri, to put it plainly, was in awe.

The shelves on the wall were decorated with various medals, certificates and trophies. Yuuri felt so small compared to all of it. And just when he thought he was gettng decent again.

"Come on, Yuuri, the bed doesn't bite and neither will I." Viktor smiled, gesturing for Yuuri to follow him to the bed.

"B-but I don't have my nightclothes on yet." Yuuri replied, feeling self-conscious.

"Oh, easy fix." Viktor said cheerfully, walking over to a dresser and pulling out a set. "Just use these."

Yuuri blushed heavily. Viktor was offering him clothes that he currently wore. It would've been fine not too long ago, but now that they had kissed, he wasn't too sure. Viktor, however, insisted upon getting Yuuri in the clothes, even offering to turn around and close his eyes. He did just as such.

Yuuri awkwardly slid out of his clothes and into the nightclothes Viktor had gven him. They were soft, but a solid size bigger than he was. But, of course, Yuuri noticed that he was growing outwardly again, and was happy that they were bigger than he was. It made it a little less shameful.

When he was done, Viktor turned around, a smile on his lips and pink on his cheeks. He opened his arms, beckoning for Yuuri to get into the bed with him. Yuuri, although a little embarrassed and a little nervous, got in quietly, getting dragged closer by Viktor until they were touching.

Viktor kept eye contact with Yuuri for a long time, as if contemplating. Yuuri just glanced around a little, feeling a tad overwhelmed, but not as if this were out of place. It felt a litttle nice, in fact.

"Yuuri, what about our goodnight kiss?" Viktor finally asked, an innocent expression on his face. Yuuri buried his face in the pillow, trying to hide. He wanted to, but he didn't know how to come across about it. He didn't want to seem desperate.

Finally, Viktor cupped Yuuri's face carefully, studying him for a moment before finally pressing his lips to Yuuri's. It was soft, but lasted longer than their first one had. Yuuri had been seeing stars.

"Uh, wow." Viktor sighed. Yuuri softly chuckled. The kisses made him feel at ease for some reason. Maybe it was because he knew Viktor loved him or maybe it was something else. Either way, they calmed him.

"Um, could we maybe kiss again?" Yuuri asked meekly. Viktor looked at him for a moment, seemingly surprised, but then laughed airily before nodding, pulling Yuuri in once more.

Yuuri believed that this was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

* * *

Woo look at that. I'm very excited because this is where the climax is finally starting to peek over the horizon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope to see you for many more ^^

-MidnightQuestant


	9. Chapter 9

Viktor had been working out something more official with Yuuri lately. He wanted to be legitimate so that if anyone were to ask, he could inform that yes, they were together. Just the thought made him tingle with happiness.

"I don't think we should just go out and say it. You know how people are." Yuuri mumbled, sitting cross legged on Viktor's bed. He had been invited to Viktor's room an increasing amount of times since he had slept there.

"You're right. Well, maybe we should just hint at it? I'm sure they'll get it eventually." Viktor replied.

"That's some wishful thinking, Viktor." Yuuri smiled, laughing just a little. He looked so cute with that face.

"Yes, but I'm a wishful thinker." Viktor said. "I'm about to get assigned a new dance for the next recital."

"Oh really, do you know what song it is that you're dancing to?" Yuuri asked. Viktor shook his head.

"It's going to be a summer recital, so I can assume that it would be something more upbeat than March Slave," He said. Yuuri just chuckled a little.

"Well, as epic as that dance was, I would hope so. It seems out of place in a summer concert." Yuuri said.

Afterwards, Yuuri and Viktor just chatted about mundane things, enjoying each other's company. At some point, their hands hand ended up together, not that either of them were complaining. Viktor quite enjoyed the closeness they now shared.

From the looks of it, Yuuri did as well. He had moved to lay his head on Viktor's chest. Viktor didn't even feel like blushing anymore. It felt normal now, but in a good way. Normal, but not boring.

After they had lain together for who knows how long, hey were startled by a loud series of knocks on the door. Yuuri stayed seated as Viktor went to the door. When they opened it, it was Yuri, but he looked distressed. That was odd for him.

"Viktor, you need to come downstairs right now. This is really, really serious." Yuri spat out hurriedly to Viktor in Russian, barely sparing a glance at Yuuri. Instead of getting angry when his eyes caught the Japanese man's, he seemed to get even more distraught.

"Um, what is it?" Yuuri asked quietly. Viktor turned around, now also getting a little worried, but he was more confused than anything.

"I need to go downstairs. Wait here, would you?" Viktor said, trying to hide his fears of what it could be behind a smile. Yuuri reluctantly nodded and Viktor headed downstairs with Yuri.

"What happened exactly?" Viktor questioned. Yuri shook his head.

"No time, come on. You'll see for yourself and I'm sure they'll tell you." Yuri replied, forcing Viktor to go even faster down the hall.

When they reached the stairwell, Viktor's heart dropped at who he saw. He saw three soldiers, each crisply dressed in what looked like formal uniforms. He didn't know what they were here for, but it couldn't be anything good.

He felt a tremor appear in his steps as he descended, coming face to face with the soldiers. Viktor was terrified of what they could possibly want. But, he had a horrible yet probably idea of what it was they were here for.

"Mr. Feltsman, my apologies, but this is necessary." The most frightening looking soldier, yet the shortest, said. He caught Viktor's gaze with a sharp look as soon as he noticed him. "It is of my understanding that this family has been housing an enemy soldier, is this true?"

Ivana sighed softly, looking over at Viktor sympathetically before answering.

"Yes, it is true." She said solemnly. Viktor had never felt so betrayed. How could she give something like that out so quickly? There wasn't any sort of resistance, nothing. He looked at her, bewildered, but she just glanced over at him then directed her gaze back at the soldiers in front of them.

"I see. At the very least you complied, despite your treason." He said. Viktor read his name tag while he looked down in shame and fear. Metriv. "I will need you to hand the soldier over. Who exactly took him in? Or was it a team effort?"

The room held in a stale silence. None of them knew what to say. No one would listen to Yuri because of his age, Yakov was probably thinking not only about the family's future, but the future of his business and Ivana was probably not going to be listened to either. It was all up to Viktor. He couldn't back down now.

"I-I did. Sir." Viktor finally pushed out. "It was all my idea. I practically forced them to go along with it."

His family looked at him like he was insane, but he'd rather be insane than allow his family to suffer because of his impulsive ideas.

"Well then, you will need to come along with us as well. This is a massive offence. You will be facing dire consequences." Metriv concluded. Viktor was ready to turn himself in. Yuri was expecting to be instructed to gather Yuuri as well.

Yuuri just then busted through the hall, hurrying down the stairs. Viktor was more than shocked; he was absolutely frightened. He couldn't be doing any of this. He just couldn't.

"No, just take me. I'm the soldier. I-I'll serve anything, sir." Yuuri said, standing at attention.

"So. . .a Yaposhka?" Metriv said, as if he were surprised, in English. "I was expecting an Italian or even a German."

He looked Yuuri up and down and Viktor wanted to tear his eyes out. Yuuri wasn't a spectacle to be ogled at nor was he a 'Yaposhka'. He was Yuuri.

"You mentioned that you would serve anything?" Metriv asked him. Yuuri gave a short, curt nod.

"Yes, sir. I said I would serve anything you wished me to." He answered. Viktor's stomach was churning.

"How about a punitive squad. It's full of deserted, useless soldiers like you. Sometimes they were the deserters." Metriv sneered at Yuuri. Viktor wanted to rip that look off of the soldier and smack him silly with it.

"Of course, sir. However, I have a single condition, sir." Yuuri stated simply.

"Oh? And what might that be, Yaposhka?" Metriv asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I wish for all of those in this family to be left alone. I was useless and ended up getting left behind. They were just being good people. They did nothing wrong. The blame should be placed on me and me alone." Yuuri said, looking ahead with his expression unwavering. "For that, I will serve any squad you place me in for as long as you want me to."

Metriv seemed surprised, genuinely this time. Viktor couldn't blame him. Yuuri didn't look like the type to make such a bold claim. Viktor's heart was twisting and his stomach was turning.

Ivana, Yakov and Yuri all looked shocked as well. They had seen Yuuri as meek. He was a deserted soldier after all, and his shy demeanour didn't help. This was a totally different Yuuri to them.

"Very well. Do you have uniform?" Metriv stated, seeming more serious and less amused. He had taken Yuuri's wish to heart and agreed with it. Viktor wanted to cry. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not after he had finally found someone who made him feel something real.

"Yes, sir."

"You have ten minutes to have it on and be back downstairs. If you try to run away, the agreement will be forgotten and this entire family will face punishment, not just the Nikiforov son." Metriv concluded. Yuuri nodded, heading upstairs.

Viktor was about to go after him before his wrist was grabbed by Yuri of all people. He was looking at him with oddly sad eyes. He shook his head, a silent bit of advice to not follow Yuuri. Viktor stopped, forcing the tears behind his eyes to stay there.

Less than seven minutes passed before Yuuri was coming back downstairs, a uniform covering him instead of a simple button-up and slacks. He walked with a serious air around him. When he walked to Metriv, he stood, his legs straight, his arms at his side's and his head forward.

"No cargo?"

"No, sir."

"Position?"

"Superior Private, sir."

"So that's why you were deserted. Still, you were a Superior Private for the Imperial Japanese Army and nobody respected you enough to keep you around?" Metriv asked, his mocking tone returned.

"Many of those lower than me had either been lost, moved to a passing squad or went missing, sir." Yuuri answered, completely unfazed by the mocking. It was becoming more and more apparent that he was a soldier. None of this bothered him. He had been trained to deal with it.

"Very well, then. You're lower than most of those we've put in our punitive squad, but there's no official hierarchy in a punitive squad, so this is useless." Metriv said, grabbing the patch on his collar, ripping it off easily. Yuuri barely blinked.

"This is also useless. I severely doubt you will ever make it home." He said, grabbing the flag on Yuuri's sleeve, ripping it off. It left a hole in the sleeve, but Yuuri barely seemed to care. Viktor, however, could see the fear beginning to pool in his eyes.

"Yaposhka, you are now disposable. You will never retreat. You either win or you die trying. Am I understood?" Metriv stared Yuuri down, grabbing his chin to drag Yuuri's eyes down to meet his. Viktor felt his skin burn at the fact that he had to grabbed so forcefully by someone so horrible.

"Perfectly understood, sir. I shall never retreat. My only retreat is victory or death." Yuuri said. Viktor felt tears slip into his eyes, but he was able to keep them from falling down his face.

"Alright. Move out." Metriv ordered. Yuuri turned on his heel quickly, marching towards the door. He was unable to look back at Viktor, and Viktor had to cover his mouth to keep from calling out after him. The door was opened, Yuuri walked out and it closed.

Yuuri was gone. Viktor finally let himself cry as he ran back upstairs. They took him away from him. It made him more hurt than anything. More than losing a competition, more than when he found out his father wanted nothing to do with him, more than any injury.

Viktor wanted him back, but he was too aware that he might not ever get his wish. As far as anyone could tell, May 15th, 1942, the day Yuuri was taken away, was his death date.

/

Why hello there. This is the intense climax I mentioned last chapter. Surprise! Anyways, I hope you can forgive me for this, but it was completely necessary. As heartless of a monster as I may be, I wouldn't do something like this without having a reason, so I hope you stick around lol.

Also, Superior Private is actually really low. Just in case you thought it was something high ranked. It's not.

Thanks for reading and see ya next time!

-MidnightQuestant


	10. Chapter 10

Yuuri didn't know what compelled him to make the decision he did. All he truly knew is that he was in a military style truck, being transported from his safe haven right back to front lines.

He was terrified for a lack of a better word. He did not know when or if he would ever see his family or Viktor ever again. Hell, he would even settle for Yuri. The teenager didn't truly hate him. If he did, Yuuri would've been taken away much sooner. Yuuri just wanted to see a familiar face.

Yuuri had always deemed himself mentally prepared for this situation, but now that it was there, he didn't know what to do. He loved Viktor and the reality of leaving him was painful. He wished he could wrap Viktor tightly in his arms, give him a kiss and tell him that everything was going to be okay. All he had managed to do before he left was write a short and rushed letter telling his lover how much he cared about him and that he would try his best to see him again.

When he arrived at the temporary camp, he saw a small group of other punitive soldiers. There were only about eight and they were all saluting outside of the old tent that looked more like a tarp on some sticks more than anything. Yuuri didn't find it odd that they were saluting. He figured it was respect or death, and he'd choose respect if that were him.

Yuuri allowed himself to be brought out of the truck without a struggle. He wanted to better his chances of survival and fighting them wouldn't help him in achieving that. He was told to stand in front of the line as the Commander, who was thankfully not the one who had taken him away, told them what was happening. Yuuri caught his name tag before it was out of view, but he couldn't make out what it said. He still couldn't read Russian.

"Listen up, you've got a new one coming in. He's Japanese," the Commander said sternly. He saw the soldier with an old and tattered uniform's eye twitch. His uniform was American and Yuuri bit back a groan. The Americans hated the Japanese and Yuuri wasn't too fond of the Americans either.

"You will take him into your measly group," The Commander continued. "He's your problem now. He's an abandoned Superior Private with what seems like little combat experience."

After that, the Commander left and Yuuri was alone with soldiers whom he didn't know and didn't trust. He squirmed a little as he watched the soldiers divide into their own groups and begin talking. He had no clue what to do. He took a gulp of air in and walked over to where the American from earlier was sitting with what looked like an Italian.

"Uh, where do you want me to go?" Yuuri asked shyly. The American groaned, getting up from his seat, saying things in a mix of different languages, making it so that Yuuri couldn't understand. He is certain he heard a few slurs that he knew were said so that he could hear them though. Maybe Americans truly were dogs with no care for how they treated others. That is what the posters and leaflets in his hometown said after all.

"Sorry about Leo. He's been on-edge for a while now. He's honestly a lot nicer usually." The Italian soldier said. "My name's Michele, what about you?"

"Oh, I'm Yuuri." Yuuri replied. Michele laughed softly, but didn't seem to be mocking him.

"A shy one, hm? Don't worry, we'll all get used to each other eventually. Anyways, there's a spot over there for you. We don't have enough supplies for you at the moment, but you can just take my coat for now." Michele said. Yuuri nodded, heading over to the spot he was directed to.

Night fell quickly and just before everyone was about to settle down, a blonde man in what looked like an old German uniform stood in the middle of the group.

"Okay, since we have an unexpected member joining us," the man started. Yuuri looked down. "We'll be heading to a nearby village to see what we can get ahold of for supplies. So, get some rest."

"You look ashamed of something." Yuuri heard a voice next to him say. He looked up and saw that Michele was sitting next to him. He offered Yuuri a flask and Yuuri, who was nervous and just wanted to forget that he was there at all, took it, swallowing a mouthful before handing it back. It was whiskey, bitter but effective.

"I guess I feel like extra baggage." Yuuri confided.

"All of us probably feel that way, don't worry. Emil didn't mean to shame you, he's way nicer than Leo, even when Leo isn't being an asshole. He used to be Commander before all of this, so he's used to saying things bluntly." Michele explained, taking a sip from the flask.

The alcohol was shared between the two of them until it was gone. Yuuri didn't really feel tipsy, he just felt warm. He still couldn't sleep. He had been hoping the alcohol would help. He just kept thinking about how much he missed Viktor. Yuuri was thinking of worst case scenarios again. This was bad for him and he knew it.

He slid out of the tent sometime in the night, ignoring the soldier left on guard but almost going back in once he saw Leo there. He didn't want to confront the other, especially not after the events earlier that day. But, despite all of this, he still went up there with a mix of defiance and liquid courage in his gut. He sat down next to the American silently, and Leo barely spared him a glance before going back to his cigarette.

"So, you were deserted, huh?" Leo spoke up. He blew smoke out of his mouth gently as he said it. Yuuri nodded, humming just a little.

"I ran away. I was scared and couldn't just suck it up long enough to at least wait for death to come for me. I was just forced back into it anyways." Leo mumbled, putting the cigarette in his mouth again.

"Well, of course you were scared. We all are. It's war, there's nothing we can learn to expect." Yuuri said, trying to sympathise with the other. Leo just scoffed.

"I don't need your wisdom. In fact, you're the last person I need it from." Leo grumbled. Yuuri felt anger start to seep into him when he heard that.

"Then why did you say anything?" Yuuri questioned, trying to keep his tone from sounding too angry, although he was.

"You're right. I don't know why I said anything to you of all people." Leo said, inhaling deeply before sighing. "Just stay out of my way."

Leo stubbed out his cigarette and headed back inside the tent. Yuuri exhaled heavily, leaning his head onto his knees. He couldn't figure out why Leo had disliked him so much. He had barely even begun talking to the man. He had never given him any reason to hate him that he knew of.

This was nothing like his his relationship with Yuri, which was more teenage moodiness than anything. Yuri was fifteen when Yuuri first became a part of the picture. He was bound to act the way he did, especially considering his short temper.

Yuuri started to think about Viktor as time dragged on. He missed him so badly that it felt like he was being stabbed in the heart a million times. He would settle for losing a few limbs if it meant he could see Viktor again.

Yuuri eventually felt tiredness creep up on him. He imagined that he was giving Viktor a goodnight kiss and whispered a single phrase, trying to articulate how much he loved the man before crawling back into the tent.

The next morning came too quickly for what Yuuri had gotten used to in the past few months. Still, he got a up without a single complaint. Complaining would get him nowhere. He just gathered up his share of cargo and began walking.

After what was certainly too short of an amount of time, Yuuri's legs began to ache. He didn't walk anymore. He kept going, definitely, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. Yuuri just kept his lips closed and his eyes ahead.

The sun quickly rose to the top of the sky, beating down on the group with unbearable heat. The weather was certainly warmer than when Yuuri had first arrived in Russia. It would've been nicer with a breeze or maybe to not have at least thirty pounds of supplies on his back. He envied the few on the sidelines of the group, holding only a small pack and a rifle. Yuuri doubted that there was anything dangerous near them or anyone that would consider them a target to attack. But, then again, Yuuri was never good with guns to

begin with.

The sun had begun to sink down by the time they made it to their destination. There was a large field surrounding a village, full of tall grass and a few trees here and there. The grass provided at least a little coverage for them. More trees would've been ideal, but none of them wanted to keep trekking, not even Emil, who had been enthusiastic about moving spots.

"Well, here it is. Set up camp." Emil said, pulling his own pack off. The rest of the soldiers pulled their own packs off, huffing once the weight was finally lifted for the first time the entire day.

"I'll ask people for supplies and see what happens." A soldier announced. He looked Russian, so Yuuri assumed that he was. The soldier set off towards the village as the rest of them continued setting everything up.

Leo continued with glaring at Yuuri and staying away from him whenever possible. Yuuri was irked by his behaviour, but what else could he honestly expect from him. Many in Japan, including Yuuri's own father, had said that Americans were rude and from what Yuuri could tell from Leo and the few American soldiers that visited the inn when the war first began, he was in no place to argue against that. They were loud, arrogant and rude.

He did, however, wish that Leo would give him a chance. They were all in this together, whether they liked it or not. It was best to befriend everyone he could. If they couldn't suck it up and get along, they would be dead.

The Russian soldier that had gone to the town came back not long after the sun had finally dropped behind the hills. He carried a few small bags and single blanket. Yuuri assumed that they would use the new blanket as a tarp. As far as he was concerned, cold skin was less important than reliable shelter.

"I was able to get enough food to last us all a few days and this blanket." He turned to Yuuri. "Here, new kid, take it. If we're going to make you fight with us, we might as well help you out first."

Yuuri graciously accepted the blanket, holding it in his lap once a fire was lit and they were handing food around. The Russian soldier from before settled down beside him, holding two shares and giving one to Yuuri.

"My name's Semenov, what about you?" He asked. Yuuri figured he'd want his last name, since he had probably given his last name. He just decided to say both because of his uncertainty.

"Yuuri Katsuki." Yuuri said simply. Semenov nodded.

"Katsuki it is then." He concluded, starting to eat. Yuuri did the same, not realising how hungry he was until the cold and slightly hard bread was bitten into. He tried to eat it slowly, but ended up taking bigger bites than he had planned. He couldn't totally blame himself, though. He hadn't eaten since the morning prior.

All of the food they had acquired was dry and could be carried as they travelled more. Yuuri was sure that this wasn't the best place and that they would probably try to look for a more wooded area the next morning, but not go on a full expedition as they had that day.

After that, most of the group settled down to sleep, aside from Semenov, who was put on guard duty outside. Yuuri was tired and aching, so he gladly curled up in his blanket, beginning to drift to sleep with ease.

Yuuri knew that this was only the beginning of a long and harsh servitude, and it was the most daunting thing he had ever encountered.

* * *

There it is! Yuuri's first day as a punitive soldier! Ft. Leo being an asshole. Also, this is where Yuuri becomes a little less innocent and his period-typical attitude comes in and he starts being a lil bit racist. But fear not, he is not a bad person as I'm sure most of you know.

Leo is being an b-hole right now but I'll let you draw your own conclusions about him as the story continues.

Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

-MidnightQuestant


	11. Chapter 11

Viktor had been feeling an ache in his chest ever since Yuuri had left. He had never cried more than he did that day. As soon as the beautiful man was gone, he ran upstairs and straight into his room. He wanted to hide from everyone. He just wanted to cry and having an audience for that wasn't ideal.

His mother came after him quickly. She invited herself into Viktor's room, but he was too tired to argue. Ivana settled down onto the bed with him, rubbing his back soothingly.

"I'm sorry, Vitya, I know this is hard, but it was necessary." Ivana said. Viktor ignored her, burying his face deeper into the bedsheets.

"You don't get it." Viktor retorted, his voice muffled by the mattress.

"You're right, I don't. Yuuri was your friend, not mine." Ivana began. "But I did what was best for you, Vitya."

Viktor only held back a bark of bitter laughter because he was too busy with the cries tearing through him. How could she say such a thing? She didn't even try to keep them from taking Yuuri. It was like he didn't even matter to her.

"Maybe you shouldn't have. Maybe you don't know what's best for me." Viktor argued, sitting up to look his mother in the eye. He hoped his frustration with her was obvious. He wanted her to understand how much this hurt him.

"Don't say such things. I love you and I am going to do everything in my power to protect you. I know this hurts, but sometimes we have to face the harsh reality. He volunteered to be taken away. What his reasoning was, I don't know, but it was his choice. Not yours, not mine, his choice." Ivana said wisely. Viktor didn't want to accept it, even though he knew his mother was right. Viktor just let out one more sob before finally caving in and leaning into his mother, desperate for comfort.

Ivana held him close, stroking his hair kindly. Of course she wants me to be safe, Viktor thought, but at what cost?

He stayed that way with his mother until he could at least breathe normally. His eyes were stinging and his nose was running. He probably looked ridiculous, but he wasn't planning to leave his bed anytime soon. He just wanted to sleep.

Ivana left and Viktor was alone, lying on his bed, tears dripping from his eyes silently. He was about to fall asleep when he spotted a note sitting on his dresser. He got up to go see what it was. It hadn't been there before.

It was a note from Yuuri. It was short and obviously rushed. Viktor struggled to make a few of the words out as he read, but from what he could tell, it said this:

 _Viktor,_

 _I'm sorry that everything had to come to this._

 _I didn't offer to leave to hurt you. Know that._

 _I will try my best to see you again. I can't_

 _tell you when that will be, or if it ever will be,_

 _but I will try._

 _I love you._

 _-Yuuri_

Viktor felt his chest tighten as he read the note, but he couldn't find tears to shed anymore. They were all gone. He just held it to his chest, and wished for Yuuri's safety. He at least had a piece of him.

He put the note in a drawer, and vowed that it would be his own and no one else was allowed to see it, much less read it. This was for him and him alone.

Now, it had been a week since Yuuri left. He had felt all of the emotions in his body die down to a dull throb. He hadn't smiled all week and his dancing had suffered severely. He was known for having control and showing emotion when he danced. This was the exact opposite of what was supposed to be happening.

"Stop!" Madame Ulyana ordered. "Viktor, you're dancing it all wrong. Mannheim No. 3 is a happy tune, not a depressing one. Your moves are sluggish and you seem like you're holding back tears. What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Viktor mumbled in response, taking advantage of the time they took to stop so that he could place his head in his hands. A migraine was beginning to knock at his head and he felt sick. Talking about anything was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Vitya, if you don't tell me what's the matter, I can't help you. That will reflect on your dancing." She pressed, then sighed. "If it's that boy you took in, I swear."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Viktor snapped, far meaner than he meant to. His head began aching painfully from the sudden noise and movement.

"I'm sorry, I'm just on edge." He finally said, hoping it would suffice as an apology. Madame Ulyana was an amazing ballet teacher, she was just a bit pushy when it came to Viktor's feelings. However, she wasn't wrong; she had known him for a long time and she can help very little when she doesn't know what Viktor's thinking.

"As you should be. But, if that's really how you would like to be, then by all means, try it. From the top." She replied. Viktor got up, albeit reluctantly, and stepped into his starting position. The music began playing and Viktor forced himself to begin dancing a divertissement. His legs were beginning to ache. In fact, his whole body hurt.

Madame Ulyana stopped him once more, pressing a hand to her forehead before announcing that they were done for the day. Viktor held in a sigh of relief as he bid his goodbyes and she left the room. Viktor immediately went and took off his ballet clothes, opting for his day clothes. He didn't even want to think about dancing at the moment.

Viktor immediately headed back up to his room. He plopped himself on his bed, pressing his face into the pillow. He had stopped crying now. He couldn't find the tears anywhere. It was like they didn't want to come out anymore. They were tired as well.

He read the note to himself every night and then wished for Yuuri's safety once more. Makkachin would come and comfort him the best a poodle could. He'd sleep in Viktor's bed and snuggle up next to the dancer.

Viktor hadn't realised he had fallen asleep until he heard raucous knocking at his door. He groaned, getting up and trying to pat down the hairs that had become unruly. He had stopped caring about his appearance so much. He rarely ever left the house, even before Yuuri had left, so he had no one to impress until the recital.

That is, if Madame Ulyana thinks he's good enough to perform. He was getting annoyed with what dances he had to do. They didn't suit how he was feeling at all. When he had done Marche Slav, he had been feeling determined and bold. Now, he was supposed to dance gleefully and he couldn't get his dumb heart to change it's tone for only a little over ten minutes. He hated it.

He left the room, finding that it was one of the maids asking him if he was ready for dinner. Viktor wanted to say no and shut the door, but he knew the maids didn't deserve to be subject to his tantrums and the cook had worked hard on dinner. Yuuri had made friends with the cook, so it was like a tribute of sorts.

Perfect, now dinner was becoming painful as well.

Viktor ate slowly, but picked at things more than put them in his mouth. He ate only a few morsels before he decided that he was full. He felt like even what he ate was too much. He excused himself once he felt it was appropriate, ot once hesitating. Yuri stopped him in the hallway.

"Come practise with me." He said.

"And if I refuse?" Viktor asked.

"You don't have a choice. Come on." He ordered, grabbing Viktor's limp and protesting arm, pulling him towards the dance hall. Viktor didn't want to go back. His ankle hurt from his mortifying roll earlier. He had never felt so embarrassed.

Once inside the room, Viktor slouched. Yuri looked at him angrily, arms crossed, but his face was tinged with something else. Viktor couldn't put his finger on it.

"Tell me what's the matter." Yuri ordered after the two stood in silence for a while. Viktor childishly refused by turning away. He felt like opening his mouth would give away too much.

"It's Yuuri, isn't it?" Yuri said bluntly. Viktor turned around quickly, as if he were making a move to slap him, but decided against it. "I knew it. Viktor, I hate to tell you this, but you need to let him go. Have you seen how vicious this war is? He's not going to make it unless God himself reaches down and slaps the enemies away."

"Don't you dare say that!" Viktor yelled. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes. "Since when have you ever cared about him? You wanted him dead the second he was in this house."

"Of course I did! He was an enemy. He could have been a spy. I won't lie, I misjudged him a little, but that doesn't matter now. The fact of the matter is that he's as good as dead." Yuri responded. Viktor instinctively tried to intimidate his brother by standing in front of him, dwarfing the other.

"You don't care about how I'm feeling, you just want to be right." Viktor said, his voice now sounding almost watery. Yuri looked offended.

"Where did that come from?! I do care about you! You're my brother. That's why I dragged you in here! You're impulsive and stupid and crazy and you're going to get all caught up in this and you're going to do something dumb and end up dead because of it! I am not losing any more family members because you can't suck it up sometimes!" Yuri screamed. He caught his breath before continuing. "The point is that I know losing someone you love hurts, but we have to let go sometimes. We have to accept it and move on."

That shut Viktor up. He knew his younger brother was right, he just didn't want to admit it. Everyone else was right and Viktor had been in the wrong the whole time.

"I just don't know what to do." Viktor whispered. Yuri looked at him empathetically. If anyone deserved to grieve, it was Yuri. He had lost both of his parents at eight, when he was put into Yakov's care. His grandfather was currently breaking down and his grandmother had died before he was even born. He had lost so many people and so far, Viktor hadn't truly lost anyone. Both of his grandparents were gone before he was two and his father was the last person he wanted to see.

"Just grieve and move on. You don't forget, you just understand. No one lives forever, Viktor, especially in circumstances like these." Yuri answered. He was the wisest of the two about this, so Viktor listened. They were about to leave before Viktor froze.

"Yuri, thank you." He said. Yuri nodded, turning then and leaving Viktor alone with his thoughts.

Yuuri probably wouldn't survive. He could hope all he wanted, but that wouldn't make the war end. That wouldn't grant immunity or immortality. Yuuri was human, with soft flesh a bullet could easily pierce and bones that could break. When Viktor thought about it, humans were very fragile. Yuuri was probably the most fragile, but in a good way. He was gentle and wasn't built for war. Nobody was, but especially not his Yuuri.

Viktor left the dance hall, going straight back to his room. Makkachin had been waiting in front of the door patiently. Viktor let the dog in, and the poodle immediately hopped up on the bed, finding his favourite spot. He licked Viktor's cheek as he settled into bed.

Viktor didn't reread the note that night. It wouldn't change anything.

* * *

Wooooow that chapter turned out to be way more depressing than originally intended… oops? It's important for character development, but I didn't mean to be so dramatic about it.

Anyways, there's a glossary:

Divertissement (ballet) - diversion, enjoyment; short dances calculated to display the talents of individuals or groups of dancers. (def. from ballet-academy)

I'm sorry that I took so long to update ^^" I meant to have it done by Wednesday, but I've been bogged down with schoolwork, registration for various things and exams all week, so I haven't had much time until today. I hope all is well. Thanks for reading!

-MidnightQuestant


	12. Chapter 12

Yuuri fell down to the ground in a exhausted heap. A few other men followed suit, their bodies just as sore and their eyelids just as heavy. They had walked nearly 25 miles at least, starting at dawn and not stopping until the sun had totally disappeared. Emil had insisted on a journey to Italy, saying that there were more people there who would help them and Michele's nationality being Italian would help a lot. He could speak to the locals, asking for food and other commodities.

Michele was very giddy about going to Italy, offering to lead the group. Yuuri didn't blame him; if they had been going back to Japan, he probably would have jumped for joy. But, his heart would most definitely would fall to the ground when the fact that Russia and Japan were worlds apart would sink in. He and Viktor still might never see each other again if Yuuri were to go back home now.

"I might even get to see Sara again, so long as we end up in Riva del Garda." Michele said.

"Who's Sara?" Yuuri asked. Michele reached into his pocket, pulling out a thin wallet that was unlikely to hold any actual money. Yuuri's wallet didn't hold anything. He suddenly wished that he had taken a photo of Viktor. They had probably had a camera somewhere. If he had done so, he would be able to have a moment with Viktor, completely immoblised by the click of a shutter and thus, immortalised.

Michele pulled out a photo of his sister, however, from how excitedly he spoke about her, some would probably mistake her for a lover. She was pretty, with black hair and tan skin. She was smiling brightly in the picture, her dress being pushed by the wind, but stopped from flowing too high by a basket full of cloths held on her hip. She almost reminded Yuuri of his own sister before she cut her hair.

"Do you have a sister? Anyone to get back to after all this?" Michele questioned. Yuuri nodded.

"I have a sister. Her name is Mari. I don't have any photos of her with me, but she has short hair and she kind of looks like me." He said. "But she's not the one I'm most desperate to get back to, as much as I love her."

"Who's the lucky lady then?" Michele winked. Yuuri rolled his eyes while trying to think of how to break it to the one who had been nicest to him that Viktor was certainly not a lady.

"Well, er, it's not exactly," Yuuri started. "His name is Viktor."

Michele looked a little shocked for a moment, but then nodded. He seemed a little shaken, but wasn't about to go ballistic on Yuuri, which was good.

"What's he like?" He decided to say. Now it was Yuuri's turn to be shocked. He had expected the Italian to at the very least try to avoid the conversation. "You know, what does he look like, what's his personality, etcetera."

"He's got really pale blonde hair and his eyes are the bluest eyes I've ever seen. He's a dancer and he's really good at it and he's the sweetest man I have ever met." Yuuri said, trying not to gush about his lover. His perfect lover he desperately missed.

"Sounds nice," Michele said. Yuuri was happy he wasn't having an outburst, but he didn't want Michele to act reserved around him, either.

"You know, if you don't like it, just say so. I'll stop talking about him." Yuuri said. He was a bit more prickly due to his fatigue, but he most likely would have said such a thing regardless. Michele told him that he didn't mind, but Yuuri just hadn't seemed the type. Yuuri took it, since that was as close to acceptance as he got.

Eventually, they all started separating and huddling into their flimsy blankets. The nights were a bit colder where they were, but they had ended up in a valley, so the wind travelled more. Yuuri shivered as he wrapped his own moth-bitten covers around himself. The time he had spent out here had begun take a toll on his equipment. By now, he had been in the squadron for nearly three weeks. He was too busy and too tired to really let anything hurt.

He had been sleeping lightly, his eyes not truly getting heavy despite the fact that he always fell asleep quickly. He found himself missing the nights in a warm bed with Viktor pressed against his back. He wanted to kiss him again. Now that he was settling down, emotions were bubbling to the surface, their sharp spikes pointed straight at his heart. Yuuri felt the tips pierce him and start to dig as he thought about how he was moving farther away from Viktor. This wasn't the first time he'd thought of turning around and running as fast as he could to get back to his lover.

But, in his situation, he knew that it was a cowardly choice. He would never actually do it. Yuuri told himself that he would not cry either. If not for himself, then for Viktor, whom he had convinced himself he was protecting by doing all of this.

And so, he fell asleep with the picture of his silver-blonde love in his head.

He woke up to the sound of whistling. He wondered who could be up at this hour aside from the guard, and adjusted his glasses. But then he heard it; a deafening sound, almost like thunder. His heart sank.

An air strike.

"All of you, move out! Grab a gun and let's go!" Emil yelled. Yuuri quickly grabbed the nearest rifle and began sprinting, leaving behind the rest of his supplies. He could smell the burning grass from the explosion and the feeling of the acrid smoke burning his nose, but he kept running. He felt like this was retreating, but Yuuri didn't care. There was no way a measly group of punitive soldiers could shoot down a fighter pilot.

Another bomb dropped, closer this time. It fell on their camp, causing it to be completely obliterated. The ground shook, sending a jolt up his body, but he kept going because he knew he couldn't stop. Not of he wanted to see Viktor's smile again. Yuuri used that as motivation to get him to hightail it out of there. He could feel tears prickle his eyes, if not from the smoke then from the memories. The reality of his life was more clear than ever. He might die tonight.

He made it behind a tree and took a short moment to breathe. He was just about to run when he saw another bomb drop.

Right on top of a few of his fellow soldiers.

They werent crushed on impact, but the force of the explosion tore them apart. A few puddles of blood splashed out around the scene. The fire erupted shortly after, but Yuuri couldn't look away.

Semenov had just been murdered by a lead ball full of death, and there was nothing he could do about it. He just let it happen. Yuuri felt his mind break a little. The finishing touch was one of them yelling for help before succumbing to their injuries. Bile rose in the Japanese man's throat, acidic and foul-tasting..

Emil yelled for him to stay down, but Yuuri could not let Semenov, a rough but calm man who had been his friend, go with being avenged. Yuuri took a leap of faith, stepping from his hiding spot and aiming. The others were shouting at him, but it never reached his ears. It all spounded like it was underwater. He looked for the plane's propeller and shot. He knew that the plane wouldn't be going down in flames and ash, but he hadn't wanted that in the first place. He only wanted the plane to leave.. The damage would force an emergency landing. He stared as the plane putted away. He crumpled down to his knees and threw up.

The other ran over to him, Michele crouching beside Yuuri as he vomited up what little he had eaten. He couldnt believe he just witnessed such a death at the hands of a stranger in a cockpit. He just couldn't.

When he finished throwing up, he stood. However, as soon as he was on his feet, he was grabbed by the collar and yanked towards Emil's face, eyes full of anger and many other emotions. Fear, glee, maybe even a bit of empathy.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You could have gotten us all killed if that fighter pilot hadn't had a shitty plane!" Emil fumed, shaking him. Yuuri hung limp like a ragdoll. "That plan was awful and you are lucky the rest of us survived!"

The rest of us.

"What about them?! What about the ones that didn't survive?! Do they mean nothing? Were just going to let them die without even trying to at least avenge them?" Yuuri screamed back in a sudden fit of courage. If only it were liquid. "Half of our squad was just killed by a bomb and all you can think about is us? They are dead, Nikolai, have some courtesy!"

"When someone dies, they die, Katsuki. There is nothing we can do about it." Emil growled, his teeth gritted. His hands travelled to Yuuri's neck and began to squeeze, choking him. It was a painful reminder that they weren't above indiscriminate killing if they found you to be of little use. Yuuri started choking, the restriction on his neck making breathing impossible and his head started to fill with blood from having no flow. He started to kick a little. Yuuri clawed at Emil's arms as the last of his air started to die out.

Then it all returned. In one big gulp, Yuuri sucked in as much air as he could. He was dropped to the ground roughly, but he didn't care. He was out of that death grip on his neck. He coughed heavily as the air was brought in too quickly.

"Emil, that's enough! Let's look at the bright side of all of this." Michele tried to reason with the blonde commander.

"What bright side?" Emil snarled. Yuuri had truly made him angry.

"Yuuri is a good shot. He said before that he has a hard time shooting people, but maybe if he can't see the person he's shooting, he can really do some damage. He'll be a wonder against air attacks like this." He said. Emil nodded almost sarcastically. He walked past Yuuri to start on the next trek.

"You are making the worst enemies, Katsuki. Don't make me one of them." Was all he said before shoving Yuuri to the side..

Yuuri kept his eyes over his shoulder as his squadron walked. They were all disoriented and had nothing but a gun and the clothes on their backs. They were back at square one.

He thought about Semenov and the others that had been picked apart. The bombs had been getting stronger and could kill easily if one got too close. They had been victims of circumstance, ending up stuck under their demise before they even realised what was going on.

He suddenly started feeling sick. What if an air strike happened to go over his family's inn? Everything Yuuri knew would be destroyed. What if it went over Viktor's home? They would be blown to smithereens. That would mean he'd never see Viktor or his family again. That's the worst nightmare he could think up. The grip on his rifle tightened as he felt himself begin to shake. Now was not the time, not after he just got choked for disobeying Emil's orders. Yuuri couldn't find himself thinking Emil was wrong for strangling him. He should've listened. After all, Yuuri's reckless actions truly could have gotten them all killed.

Yuuri wondered how many lives had been snuffed out because of the rifle. Perhaps a few of the deaths were self-inflicted. Yuuri didn't think that it was a crazy thought. Sometimes, a sliver of a thought would creep into his mind and tell him to put a bullet through his skull.

"Yuuri," it would always whisper. "No one needs you here. You know you're never going to see Viktor again, so why don't you just stop trying?"

Yuuri would never listen, but that never made the thought go away for long. It was starting to sound more enticing by the day, which terrified Yuuri. He was still shaking, but harder now. He could feel the tears sting his eyes and his heart start pumping. He didn't want this. He didn't want to panic when he had just acted like he had the guts of a lion tamer.

He started to find it hard to see. The world was spinning violently and he couldn't stand anymore. He fell to the ground in a shivering ball. He pulled his knees up to his chest when he started to cry. He almost felt like he didn't know where he was. There were voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying or who they were. He heart was pounding in his ears like a train on tracks. He tried not scream. He bit his lip hard instead, drawing a little blood. He didn't want to think about blood. He spat out his own lip and began to heave air in quickly.

There was a hand on his back and two on his legs as well another helping to his his front part up. They were trying to get inside the ball he had made. Yuuri tightened around himself in response. They weren't getting in. Not now, not ever. Letting people in just made it hurt more when they were gone.

And then he came back to his senses. Everything was back where it should be. He could hear the voices talking as he slowly untangled his own limbs.

"-lled a panic attack. My dad said that people get them from anxiety," Michele said. Emil shook his head.

"What should we do about it?" He asked.

"We should let pass," Michele concluded.

"Looks like it already did." Leo said, pointing at Yuuri. Michele qnd Emil looked at him and could have sworn he saw relief. They all helped him up, even Leo. He was shocked.

"Why didn't you leave me behind?" Yuuri asked, condused. In another place, he would have been shot square in the face for being weak. Instead, they propped him up against a tree and started trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"We've already lost too many today. It's just you, me, Leo and Michele now. We might as well start helping each other." Emil said.

"Don't think we're friends, though. I'm doing this to save my own skin." Leo hissed. Yuuri couldn't help it when a small laugh clambered up his throat and past his lips. Michele started laughing a little too. Everyone had needed the relief from the tension. Emil smiled and Leo turned around, but Yuuri was sure that he saw his shoulders shake a little. They each picked up a gun and started to travel.

Eventually, they would reach Italy.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Woo that took way too long. I am so sorry! I meant to have it out on Wednesday, then I tried to get it out on Friday. Now its Sunday and I'm only now posting it! So sorry! To try and make it better, I made this chapter pretty long and have a lot of stuff happen in it.

There's not much else to say other than I might start changing the update day to Saturday. Thanks for reading!

-MidnightQuestant


	13. Chapter 13

Viktor still couldn't get his dance right, no matter how much he hoped and wished to. He'd been practising for hours and hours into the night, but still can't get the emotion that the Marriage of Figaro entails. He can get the movements, but not with the proper bounce in his step or the right excitement in his pirouettes. He hates it. He's so used to being good that it never really occurred to him that any event in his life could cause everything to crumple down around him.

He ended up stepping out of his group performance in The Sleeping Beauty as well. Viktor didn't want to drag down dancers, that had been working too hard and had the weary smiles to prove it, with his gloominess and pure incompetence. He would just do a solo, and that's only if he can pull it together in time. The recital was set to be in only two months. In dancer time, that was too short. A wide window of time for a dancer would be five months at the very least.

Viktor knew it was because of Yuuri. He didn't want Yuuri running around in his head. He's getting very angry at the Yuuri in his head, but not the real one. The real one had no choice. The real one always lifted him up and never would drag him down. This Yuuri was trying to hold him back with thoughts of loneliness and pain in his heart.

Viktor had been listening to all of the records that were available in the manor lately, from Albinoni to Strauss. He's been thinking about making the bold choice of changing his music for a while now. With so little time to spare, he figured that he'd just have to choreograph this on his own. Viktor was sure that this performance with a song of his choice that matched how he felt would be better than a half-baked dance to a cheerful tune.

The hardest part would be bringing it up to Madame Ulyana, who would most likely be less than pleased to find that Viktor had taken such a drastic liberty. After all, she was the director and Viktor was her student. She was supposed to be in charge of what he did. But, he guessed that challenging authority would be necessary if he planned to dance at all, much less dance well.

"Vitya, you've been listening to those records nonstop." A voice stated from the door of the dance hall. It was Ivana, and Viktor just slightly nodded as he adjusted his position on the chair he was sitting in.

"I just wondered how everything sounded." Viktor mumbled. Ivana walked over to him.

"May I sit and listen with you?" She asked politely. She had been acting very careful around Viktor ever since Yuuri left. It was starting to get old, but Viktor wouldn't tell her. She just wanted to be gentle with him. He was still rubbed raw, after all, despite the fact that it had been nearly a month since he left. He shouldn't still be like this. He should be starting to build himself up and move on, just as Yuri had said.

"Sure." Viktor answered simply, moving over to allow his mother to sit next to him. Her dress, a light grey garment that went down to her ankles, bunched up in the space between them. They didn't talk, just listened as the sound of Adagio for Strings poured out of the record player. The sound was melancholy, but too intense for what Viktor was feeling. He wanted to listen to something soft.

At some point during the evening, Madame Ulyana arrived. Viktor caught a glimpse of his mother talking to his instructor with a look close to a grimace on her features. She looked worried. Viktor felt horrible for making her upset, but he couldn't help what had already been done. If she was upset now, he would just have to let her be upset. He cannot change what she feels now.

Madame Ulyana walked into the room with as much elegance as always just as Viktor was tucking his shirt into his tights. He wanted to try today, at least, since he was aiming for a music change. If he could please his instructor, maybe she would let him change it. He figured that getting on her good side for the day would improve his chances.

"Hello, Viktor." She said crisply. "We'll be keeping it simple today."

Viktor nodded, but felt a tad miffed at the behaviour. Had his mother gotten Madame Ulyana to change the lesson for the day? All because she thought he was too upset? Now he really wanted to prove himself worthy of his own decision. He was going to show them all. Surprising an audience is what he does best, after all.

"I can do more than simple. You know that. You've known me for a long time, haven't you?" Viktor retorted. Madame Ulyana looked at him, surprised. On any other day for the last few months, he would've been glad to do something more simple. His legs would've greatly appreciated it, too. They were always so sore when he did otherwise. His knees would hurt the most.

"Yes, I have." She said. Viktor saw a smile pull at the corner of her lips. "Well, let's get to it. Marriage of Figaro, from the top."

Trying to channel enough happiness for this moment, he thought of everything nice that happened with Yuuri. The real Yuuri, not the one rushing away in his mind.

Viktor thought of the look on his face when he showed Yuuri his dance. Marche Slav. It was an intense piece that was meant to show courage and boldness. It was full of high, loud notes. It was packed with emotion and passion. So much that he could barely take it.

Viktor thought of how he realised he was in love at the recital. He sped out of the recital as fast as he could. He didn't care that he was leaving early. He just couldn't think of another moment without the man who captured his heart. Yuuri hadn't even realised that he had done it, either. But, soon, Viktor had also captured his. They were both completely enamoured with each other. They were putty in each other's hands that would melt if the other so commanded it. It wouldn't have even taken them a fraction of a second to think about it.

The kiss is what really stuck out to him. The shy smiles and the gentle laughs. The quietness of Yuuri's every word. Viktor held on to the way Yuuri sounded and how much he loved him. He thought about how his feet seemed to leave the ground when their lips met. He felt weightless. It was like Yuuri had wings and was lifting them up with the powerful, feathery appendages. The feeling of Yuuri's lips is one he will never forget. They were a little chapped, but still were smooth. Theh tasted like heaven. Viktor would always feel the same for every kiss after that one. He longed for another.

And then the music was over. Madame Ulyana looked proud. Viktor knew that she would never comprehend how much effort that took. He would have cried while thinking of those memories in any other circumstance, but there was some sort of purpose this time. There was something driving him, despite his plans to change the dance entirely. He knew he couldn't do that over and over, and especially not on stage in front of hundreds of people. This was a one time thing.

"See, you can do it! We'll just need to work on your facial expression. You seemed too stoic." She critiqued. Viktor felt his stomach turn when the request started to bubble on his lips.

"Madame Ulyana, I was wondering something, actually." Viktor mumbled. His instructor looked over at him. Her brown eyes had never seemed so daunting. "I. . . How do you think I would do if the song was in minor and not major?"

"That's a strange question. I'm not sure how you would do. You've grown so much since you've done a piece in minor. You're more of a major person." She answered.

"But if I were to get a piece in minor for you, would you consider listening to it?" Viktor pressed on. He was too nervous to ask outright, so he decided to work his way into it.

"Possibly. It would depend on how long the piece is. We only have two months until the recital." She hummed. Great, Viktor was getting somewhere. "What piece were you considering?"

"Lamento della ninfa: Amor, Amor," Viktor answered. His heart started pounding in his ears when the surprised look made its way onto his teacher's face.

"That's a very emotional opera piece, Vitya. Are you sure you want to do that for a summer recital? It may not fit." She said. So, she hadn't outright refused it.

"I'm sure. After all, I love surprising an audience. This piece is a lot lighter in sound than the others I was considering, so I think it'll fit a little despite its content matter." Viktor said, determined.

Lamento della Ninfa: Amor, Amor was a very emotional piece, just as Madame Ulyana had said. It was about a Nymph who had lost the one she loved. It's a heartbreaking tragedy. It described Viktor's emotions perfectly. Everything from losing love to the hopeless feeling that followed.

"How will we have time to choreograph a dance?" Madame Ulyana worried.

"I can do it. You have other students, I don't have any. I'll make one up by next week and I'll show it to you for review." Viktor replied.

"Are you sure about this, Vitya?" She asked, looking into Viktor's eyes. "There are so many things that could go wrong. I don't want you to hurt your dancing career."

"Yes, I am." He answered earnestly. "If I ruin anything, it will be on me."

"Then have the program finished by next week and we'll go from there. I'll look forward to it." She concluded. She packed up her things and said goodbye, to which Viktor replied.

Once she was gone, Viktor let out a heavy sigh of relief. He walked straight over to the record player, put his choice of music on the disk and began working on his new and original dance piece.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I'm sorry about how short this chapter is ;-; I couldn't think of much content matter for it at this point, but I didn't want to disrupt the order of the PoV I had been doing. However, the next few Viktor chapters are going to be much more exciting, I promise.

Also, you should totally listen to the music I mentioned in this chapter:

Adagio for Strings in G Minor - Tomaso Albinoni (preferred recording: Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra)

Lamento della Ninfa: Amor, Amor - Claudio Monteverdi (preferred recording: Simone Kermes)

They're both amazing, but I have to say that Lamento della Ninfa is my favourite out of the two. It's an opera, so if you don't like that, I wouldn't recommend it as a forever song, but give it a listen. At least for the atmosphere of the story.

Some information about last chapter that I forgot to bring up: Yuuri was able to hit the propeller of that plane because it was already partially damaged and it was one of the worst, most beat up, most poorly working Italian Ansaldo A.120. If you aren't aware, those were manufactured in 1925, nearly 20 years before the time that is currently taking place in the story. They are in year 1943, going on 1944.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this painfully short chapter and stay around to read more!

-MidnightQuestant


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a over month since Yuuri had been travelling with the other soldiers and they have only gotten to Belarus. They all knew that it was good progress, but it was so far from Italy and that just dampened their spirits. On the bright side, Emil had laid out a travel plan already and their destination was confirmed to be Riva del Garda. It was a northern city and since Michele was from there, it was likely to be friendly.

Yuuri had been so busy and so exhausted that thoughts about Viktor were becoming sparse. It didn't mean he didn't have the beautiful man's image burned into his mind, but he just had so much on his place. There were shelters to build, supplies to gather, rations to pass out. It was a never-ending list of chores. Almost all of the supplies they previously had had been destroyed in the air strike, but it had left them with more room and food to share. That meant everyone in the group got at least a slice of bread for dinner. Meat, if they were in forest and got lucky. They would have it a lot more if they had ammo to spare. They had to always go in with only knives, rocks if they were truly desperate and knew they couldn't take a hit with the hooves of a deer.

As much as Yuuri hated it and as much as he had begun to consider the soldiers that died his friends, he was happy that there were fewer mouths to feed. They were all grown men, which meant that they tended to eat more. They were weak as is, so the extra food was nice, no matter how stale.

Sometimes, though, Yuuri does think about Viktor. He doesn't cry anymore. He simply feels empty, like there's nothing there holding him together; like he's a shell of who he used to be. He had been changing non-stop, learning that shooting at any sort of incoming danger could be the difference between life and death and that stabbing someone may be his only chance of coming out of something alive. Yuuri figured it had something to do with being more active in the war, especially considering how long he had been sheltered. Either way, it was hard and he didn't like it. However, he sucked it up and kept moving. He couldn't stop, not now, not ever. He would have to be like this until the war ended, or he died. Whichever one came first.

He sometimes wondered what Viktor would think of him if he knew how he had changed. He sometimes doubted if Viktor would love him anymore if he did. What would he say?, Yuuri wondered. 'Yuuri, how could you hurt those people? They probably have family, someone waiting for them once this war ended, and you hurt them. How could you?'

Thinking about such things always brought a lump up Yuuri's throat. Not like he was about to cry, but more like he was about to vomit.

"Yuuri, hand me that bag over there. It has food I was able to get from the locals." Emil called, pointing to a blue sack on the ground. Yuuri picked it up, handing it to the commander. He hoped it was enough to last them longer than the last bag of food had. That barely lasted them three days.

"What do we have this time?" Leo asked, walking over to the pair. He was still adverse to Yuuri, preferring to stand farther away from him, but Yuuri had given up on trying to change it. He wasn't too fond of Leo either. At least they weren't calling each other slurs anymore. And, to be far, Yuuri had gotten the last slur in, calling him a 'war-mongering dog', to which Leo held back a retort and stormed out.

"Just some bread, a few vegetables and dried meat. We should have enough for a week or two if we ration it properly." Emil replied. He pulled out the parchment-wrapped food and set it out on his jacket. "It's almost sunset, so let's go ahead and set up the first round. Michele, come over here!"

"Got it," Michele said, walking over to the group and sitting down beside them.

"We're doing rations. Here's yours." A strip of meat, a carrot and a chunk of bread from the loaf. Everyone else was given the same and they ate silently. They were too hungry for chatter. The amount they had gotten was like heaven even if it was all they were allowed to have for the night. Yuuri tried to eat it slowly, but it was gone within two minutes. He couldn't help it. Living with his mother who always cooked too much and being fed well while staying at the Nikiforov's home had made him used to food. He knew he'd have to fix that.

After that, Yuuri was put on guard duty so everyone else could get some sleep. He hadn't done it for a few days, so now it was his turn. He picked up his rifle and went to sit against a tree. Soon, everyone feel silent and he wa left in his own thoughts and the sound of nature, crickets chirping and wind blowing. He expected to end up thinking of Viktor, but instead his thoughts strayed to his family. His short and chubby mother with the biggest heart known to man, his father who was silly and teased him about looking exactly like his mother and his sister, who was tall and smoked, but was wise and would listen when you needed it.

He missed them dearly, just as much as he missed Viktor. He hadn't seen them in almost two years. They were probably worried sick about him, wondering if he was alive or not. His mother probably cried more than Yuuri had ever seen, his father probably lost some of his silliness and his sister had to sit out by the hot spring by herself, with no one to talk to.

The last thing he had heard from any of them was that the inn was doing well, his parents loved him and the terrible news that his sister's husband had left her over a miscarriage. He wanted to comfort Mari, but he couldn't. He remembered when she had found out she was pregnant and how she started hugging everyone in sight and gave her husband a kiss. Yuuri never liked the man, but whatever made Mari happy was okay with him. As much as he disliked his sister's choice in men, he never figured one would leave her over something she couldn't control. If he had been there, Yuuri would have tracked him down and given him the hardest punch in the face he could manage.

Yuuri sat in thought until the sun rose. The light burned his eyes as he got up to rouse the others.

"Morning. Come on, time to go." Yuuri called to the mounds of sleeping men on the ground. They all got up, Michele with a groan, and began putting everything into makeshift packs. Yuuri and Michele had both been glad that their mending and sewing skills that they both had been forced to hone as children were of some use.

"How far are we going today?" Leo asked. Emil hummed, mulling over the question before answering.

"I'd say at least twenty to thirty miles if we plan to end up in Poland by the time winter hits." He muttered in reply. If Yuuri was totally honest, he was scared of staying Poland all winter. The country was controlled by Germany, who seemed to be taking anyone to their concentration, labour and death camps regardless of race or religion. They wanted total superiority, and they were willing to go to drastic measures to achieve it. Of course, Emil used to be a commander in the Nazi Air Force, but he had left the army and understandably so. He spoke German, but as long as they didn't end up at the wrong place at the wrong time, they would be fine. "Once we're there, we'll travel slowly through the country until winter is over, then we'll move faster through Czechoslovakia and Austria."

After the short discussion, they all began walking. They at least had a compass, which led them in the direction they needed to go. Without it, they would be walking aimlessly through the Soviet wilderness, being berated by cold Autumn winds in the morning and hot sun during the afternoons. They almost prayed for winter, which would have about the same temperature every day instead of the drastic temperature changes that the beginning of Autumn brought on.

The walk was quiet, just boots treading on grass and guns clinking. They didn't hear the whirring of plane engines in the distance or the sounds of shots being fired. It was a deep, yet comfortable silence that none of them wanted to break. It kept conversations from going too far or fights from breaking out. No one asked anything and no one answered. It was a win-win for everyone involved.

They trekked on for hours upon hours, their legs aching. Yuuri felt like he could fall asleep where he stood, having not slept since the afternoon before. The sun was starting to fall in the sky and the warm heat was a sign that evening was quickly approaching and they would need to stop. Eventually, they did. Emil concluded that they had gone about twenty-eight miles as they sat down, all tired and hurting.

"Michele, you're on guard duty tonight, so get some sleep. You two, make sure we didn't lose anything on the way and that the rations are still there." Emil ordered, and everyone diligently went to work, Michele happily to sleep for the next few hours. The rations were quickly accounted for, along with ammunition and any sort of blankets or other covers they had. Leo and Yuuri didn't talk the whole time, not like Leo and Emil with chatter while reloading guns or he and Michele would have rambles as they packed up. It was silent. Neither complained, as they didn't want to talk to each other in the first place. It was better than arguing with each other, which they had grown very tired of.

Once it was finished, they walked away from each other, settling down far away from each other. Leo pulled out his knife and started sharpening it on a rock while Yuuri waited for sunset, not wanting to do anything. Boring, yes, but all he really could do. His knife was plenty sharp and being out in the wilderness of one of the USSR's countries didn't really provide much entertainment.

"Here, take your rations and then we'll wake Michele and put him to work." Emil said, giving a small amount of food to both of the soldiers. Yuuri went slower with eating this time, but still craved more. The only thing keeping him from sneaking food in the night is a guard and his own twisted sense of pride. He would not be the one to crumble under hunger first. He had promised himself.

He remembered soldiers in his old Japanese squadron that would do that. They would act as if they owned the food themselves, when in reality, it was provided by the Japanese government and sent to them via air shipment. They had nothing to do with it. A few of the other soldiers had died from hunger, going to sleep and never waking up. They would burn the bodies, say a short prayer and move on. They would report the deaths next time it was necessary.

Yuuri chose to stop thinking about, instead heading to a sport where he could sleep. He found a relatively soft patch of grass and settled down on it, wrapping his thin cover over himself. The night was beginning to cool. Emil and Leo followed him shortly after. Yuuri felt his eyes get heavy and he quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Goodness, I am so sorry for how long this took! I meant to have it out a full week ago. I will work diligently for the next two days to bring you the next chapter, which will have more of a plot-relevant impact. This chapter was more of a filler than anything, and only provided a little information. I was just in the worst writer's block since I didn't know how to write a filler chapter when there's so many important things that will be coming up soon! I rewrote and rewrote this chapter, but to no avail! I finally came up with this just today.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading!

-MidnightQuestant


	15. Chapter 15

Today was Viktor's dance recital. He had successfully choreographed a new dance piece and gotten it approved by Madame Ulyana under her impossibly high standards. He felt a little pride at that. He was also ecstatic that he would no longer be forced to show fake and superficial emotion through the Marriage of Figaro and instead to have something real and raw shown through Lamento della Ninfa.

He had been working tirelessly on the dance, day and night, only allowing himself breaks when Madame Ulyana forced him or he could barely lift himself up. Yakov and Yuri had had to help him back to his room multiple times. His mother had said that Viktor was getting too deep into the dance and was now hurting himself because of it, but Viktor begged to differ. This dance was the embodiment of pain. Him being 'hurt' only heightened the intensity for him. It made the portrayal that much more real.

Now, this was the grand reveal. He could show them that all the emotions he showed through dance weren't imaginary, but something so real that it felt like you could reach out and touch it.

Viktor was driven to the theatre with Yuri, who spoke only of the friend that was said to be dancing with him in 'Raymonda', He said that the other dancer's name was Otabek. While Yuri would be dancing as Béranger, Otabek would be playing Jean de Brienne, a lead role. Yuri wasn't old enough to have lead roles with older and more experienced dancers. Viktor hoped that one day Yuri could have a lead. He always worked so hard and he was an amazing dancer.

Viktor was happy that Yuri didn't question his apathetic responses. Maybe being this way put him in the mood for his dance. It didn't really, but that's what he told himself. It made it seem justified. He was being distant with everyone, though, so it wasn't like he was giving the cold shoulder to anyone in particular.

When they arrived at the Mariinsky, Yuri hopped out of the car with excitement Viktor hadn't seen in him since his twelfth birthday party. Viktor followed, much slower, but still able to keep up with his younger stepbrother due to his long legs in comparison to Yuri's short ones.

They were met at the door by Mila and Gerogi, as always, but Yuri slipped under them and ran off. Mila made a comment about Yuri being too interested in his new friend before turning back to Viktor.

"Are you okay? You look more down than usual." She asked, a hint of confusion and sympathy in her voice.

"I guess. I don't really know what I am, honestly." Viktor replied, playing with the buttons on the garment bag holding his costume absentmindedly. Mila stayed quiet after that, seemingly uncomfortable. This was a massive change since the last time she had seen him, after all. Last time, he was lovestruck and head over heels, and had the security of knowing the one he loved would be waiting at home for him. Now, he's lonely and lost, and doesn't even have the security of knowing his love was alive. It was worse than he could find words to describe.

Mila eventually headed off to the girl's dressing rooms, leaving only Georgi and Viktor. Georgi looked over at him with far more understanding than the others did.

"You're heartbroken, aren't you?" He questioned, but had a knowing glint in his eye.

"I-I don't know if that's the right way to. . .," Viktor trailed off, "yes, yes I am."

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Georgi went further. This was starting to feel more like Georgi was digging into an open wound than trying to help him.

"Yes, it does." Viktor all but huffed. He was far more irritable than he usually was, a flood of emotions at any time of the day, even in sleep. He didn't need this thrown at him too.

"You feel like it's your fault, don't you?" Georgi said, and that made Viktor seethe. Not enough to actually hit Georgi, but enough to make him see red.

"I don't need to hear this. Especially not from you." Viktor grumbled, storming off to the dressing room. He had been assigned a dressing room separate from Yuri this time, so he was with someone he likely didn't know. Luckily, that person wasn't there, and he could have some time to throw himself into a chair and put his head in his hands.

He couldn't describe what he was feeling. It was like anger, but not quite. It was like sadness, but not really. It was like loneliness, but it wasn't quite that either. Viktor guessed despair would be the best way to put it, but he didn't think that covered it either. He felt tears, but they wouldn't spill. He felt his chest contract, but he still kept breathing. It was the strangest and most painful thing he had felt in the longest time.

He felt the door click open and he looked up, hoping he didn't look too bad. He felt more than relieved when he saw who it was.

"Chris! I haven't seen you in forever." Viktor exclaimed, switching from Russian to French easily in order to greet his friend.

"Well, hello. You seem excited to see me." Chris mumbled almost suggestively. Viktor rolled his eyes. "I requested to get a dressing room with you. I couldn't stand not being able to talk with you privately after such a long time."

"I've missed you so much!" Viktor almost squealed, wrapping Chris up in a bone-crushing hug, ignoring his friend's obvious flirting. He was like this, and after knowing him for so long, Viktor knew Chris wasn't actually interested in him. He acted sexual for his own satisfaction, not anyone else's.

"I've missed you too, mon cher." Chris hugs Viktor back before prying the older man off of him.

"So, how have you been, flaunting around back in Switzerland? How did you even set up a dance with the Mariinsky? They're almost all Russian, or at least Soviet." Viktor immediately hopped into conversation, happy for the distraction from himself.

"Ah, almost, Viktor. And my time back in Switzerland was magical. I met a few boys, ravished them just as they dazzled me." Chris sighed almost dreamily. He was so open about everything in a way that Viktor, despite his bluntness, could never be. Especially about his sexuality; Viktor still had issues with his own, but they were getting better. Still, he wasn't like Chris, who would wear it on his cheek. He doesn't think he ever will be. Chris, after all, is the only person he has told outright that he felt like he was homosexual. He still tried to push it down and suppress it, though.

"I bet that was nice." Viktor mumbled in response.

"What about you? Any nice men to catch your eye?" Chris questioned putting the hook of his garment bag on a nearby rack before sitting down next to Viktor.

"Well, there's one, but I don't know if or when I'll ever see him again." Viktor mused, his thoughts suddenly getting darker and his mood dampening and soon as the conversation trailed to Yuuri.

"A traveller?"

"No, a soldier." Viktor felt even worse. Things were too down to earth. He wanted to go back to his clouds, however stormy they were.

"I see," Chris hummed, "deployed?"

"Worse. Punitive." Viktor said. "He wasn't Russian, or even Soviet, Chris. He was Asian. Japanese, to be exact. They found out my family had been sheltering him and he offered to be taken away, all because I didn't think about the consequences when I took him in. Chris, I got him into this."

Chris only looked at him, putting a hand on his friend's back and rubbing smooth and gentle circles over it as Viktor finally felt a tear slide down his cheek, then another and another until he was starting to cry outright. He kept mumbling about how it was all his fault for not properly sheltering him and how he shouldn't have let Yuuri do it. He was happy that Chris knew the best comfort was silence and gentle movements. All he had wanted for the longest time was for someone to listen and let him say what he wanted to spill out since Yuuri was taken.

Viktor's outburst went on for a while longer. They heard music being played down the hall, but they stayed in the dressing room. Unlike the last recital, the oldest and most experienced dancers would be going last, almost like a Grand Finale. Viktor eventually got ahold of his bearings and dried his tears with a tissue handed to him by Chris.

"You've really got it bad for him, don't you?" Chris teased, but in a loving and kind manner. It almost didn't sound like teasing at all with the way he said it.

"Yeah, I do." Viktor sighed, his voice still wavering a little.

"What's he like?" Chris wondered.

"He's the sweetest thing. He's shy and quiet, but is actually really nice to talk to once you get to know him. He used to dance before all of this, but then he had to stop. He showed me a few times while he was still here. You should've seen him. He has this face on when he dances that you can't help but love," Viktor gushed, "but he isn't built for war. He's timid, in a cute way, but that will get him hurt, if not killed. I can't help but worry for him."

"Sounds wonderful. What's his name?"

"Yuuri Katsuki. Beautiful, isn't it? The same name as my brother." Viktor replied. Chris smiled once more before checking the time and practically springing from his seat.

"I've only got twenty minutes until my performance! I have to hurry. Sorry to cut our conversation short, mon beau." Chris said, reaching for his costume pulling it out of garment bag. He stripped quicker than any man should be able to, and slid on his tights and top. The red lines and black fabric suited him, Viktor decided.

"It's alright. I'll put on my costume and I'll come watch you. Let me just collect myself." Viktor gave Chris a weak smile as the dancer left with a wave.

Once he was gone, Viktor leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He sighed heavily. He knew he looked like a complete mess, but there was no changing it now. If Chris' performance was only in twenty minutes, his would be in about an hour. In his mind, conditioned from years of ballet, that was short.

He eventually rose, going towards his garment bag and unbuttoning it. It opened to reveal a dark blue garment, adorned with silver swirls around the chest, going all the way down the torso and lined the cuffs of the sleeves. Viktor had personally chosen it and got the designs just right with the seamstress. He wasn't ruining his first self-choreographed performance with a simple costume mistake. Not when it meant so much to him.

He slid the tunic on, attaching the buttons to one another almost languidly. He was down to five minutes to Chris' performance when he had his tights, shoes and top on. He ran out of the dressing room and straight to the area where the other performers were waiting for their turn.

"I almost thought you had fallen asleep, Viktor!" Chris joked, hooking his arm around Viktor, who shook out of it with an apologetic smile. Chris seemed to understand immediately. He wasn't in Switzerland. Here, people took everything literally and much too far. His friendly gesture could be taken a very wrong way.

"I wasn't going to miss it; I promised. Besides, I'm excited to see how much you've improved in three years." Viktor answered.

"I promise, I have gotten so much better since then. I fixed my balance." Chris said. "My music is called Spring Sonata. What's yours?"

"It's a surprise," Viktor said, "now, go, go, your turn is up next and this dance is almost over."

"Okay, okay. You look stunning, by the way. That outfit suits you." Chris replied. Viktor shooed him away, and he dashed off with a wave. Viktor moved to where he could see the stage and watched as the female dancer gracefully walked off stage and his friend replaced her.

The gentle sound of strings and piano played from the orchestra down below. Viktor was happy to have found out that they did have an opera singer ready to perform the song for him, as other dancers had done songs with opera in them as well. He would have to personally thank her later.

Chris stepped into a plié and used that as momentum to push himself into a pirouette with three rotations before dropping into a retiré and then quickly jumped up into battement. Despite the energy of his movements, he still managed to make it fit with the summery languidness of the dance. Chris could truly work wonders.

He moved in time, flowing his body. He moved them from fifth to third during the time he changed his foot. Viktor knew that trick well; he had used it plenty of times. It was common for the two of them, and they often discussed it when they were younger. Now, they have more grown-up things to discuss, like guilt and innocence and love and hate. They haven't much talked of footwork since they were teenagers. Maybe Viktor should bring up, just as a nice change of pace.

Chris finished with a final, but strong grande Pirouette á la second and then fell into his final position, one knee on the ground. He rose gracefully, bowing to the audience before walking calmly off stage. He didn't hug Viktor this time, now fully aware of how uncomfortable it made him when surrounded by so many people. He was understanding, which was something Viktor had been hungry for.

Viktor gave him a million compliments on his dance, particularly about his last pirouette. It was powerful and really brought out the strength he had gained since Viktor last saw him.

Soon, though, it was Viktor's turn to dance. He walked out on stage, silver lining on his costume glistening in the lights. He went into fourth position, arms in the first. He waited for the classical guitar to begin before pushing himself into a soft turn, foot grazing the floor gently before moving into an arabesque penchée. The singer's voice started, her voice filling his ears. He was suddenly more emotional than he had been since he put the costume on.

 _Amor, Amor, Amor_ , it sang in his ears. The Latin word for love, sang so longingly. It was a voice desperate for someone to hold them, but wouldn't settle for anyone at the same time. They wanted the one they loved, the one the traitor called romance promised them. How could they not have them?

 _O tu m'ancidi, ch'io. Non mi tormenti più_ , the song cried. The words of someone who could no longer torment themselves by the knowledge that the one they loved was gone. They did not understand why such a thing had happened, so they couldn't even dare to try and heal. How could you heal when you didn't know entirely what had happened. You cannot treat a psychosis patient without first analysing them and seeing the problem. But, what if the problem was invisible? That is how Viktor felt.

Viktor threw himself into a flowing, but powerful series of pirouettes. He moved like water would. No, more like tears would roll down a flushed cheek. He was sure that with all the feelings coursing through him, his emotion was better than ever, and although he hadn't truly been paying attention to his movements, he hoped his dance was just as good, if not better.

He ended on a gentle and low note rather than a powerful one. It was all for the artistry, and inserting something that was anything but graceful would be tacky and not at all fitting. He stopped at second position, arms reaching out towards his right. He was panting and his lungs burned, so he must have worked hard, even if he can't collect it all. Applause burst out as he bowed and began walking towards backstage, where he was greeted by Chris, who seemed stunned, yet pleased.

"That was not what I expected for a summer recital, but it was amazing as always. Has anyone told you that you have the best emotion in the business?" Chris questioned. Viktor couldn't answer. He felt like if he opened his mouth, only a whimper would come out, so he just nodded. He had been told that his facial expressions were well executed.

Viktor excused himself and rushed to a restroom instead of his dressing room. That would've been exactly where Chris would have expected him to go, and he didn't want to be followed. Luckily, with all of the other dancers either readying themselves for performance or watching the others, Viktor was left alone in the bathroom.

He didn't know if he would have the energy to stay and watch Yuri's dance, but he would try.

* * *

I promised I would have the next chapter out much, much sooner than the last, and here it is! There's a lot of things to mention in this chapter that aren't even anything to do with the story, so I'm saying story-related things first and something regarding the next few fanfics I may be uploading after this one is finished.

So, this was actually really important to the plot because of reasons I cannot reveal. It does have something to do with Viktor and Chris, but I'm not going to mention it for now, because that would be giving too much away! Feel free to draw your own conclusions on what I meant.

Fanfics I may be putting up after this one is completed is unknown right now, so I will allow you to choose. I have a crime story (that isn't Viktuuri at its core, but it does involve them both), a blackmail story in the style of journal entries (heads up, a lot betrayal occurs in this one) and I have an AU where Yurio is a heart transplant patient and he and Viktor become friends over something I cannot tell you, but it has to do with the heart Yurio got. Make your choice, if you wish

Alright, here is the glossary for this chapter:

-Raymonda - a ballet originally performed in the Mariinsky in 1898

-Mon cher - French for 'my darling'. Chris used it as a friendly way.

-Mon beau - French for 'my handsome/beauty'. Again, used in a friendly way.

-Plié - bending at both knees to achieve either a full rectangle-like shape or a diamond-like shape with your legs. Usually used in practise, but also used in performance

-Retiré - position in which the thigh is raised to the second position en l'air with the knee bent so that the pointed toe rests in front of, behind or to the side of the supporting knee (def. From ballet-academy because I didn't know how to explain it)

-Grande Pirouette, á la second - a piroutte performed in second position, with the working leg a 90 degree angle. It is considered a very powerful and brilliant movement. Usually done by male dancers.

-Arabesque penchée - literally a leaning arabesque. Penchée means to lean or incline, so add that to a leg bent back behind you with one supporting leg under you.

Translations:

-Amor - Latin word for love

-O tu m'ancidi, ch'io. Non mi tormenti più - Or else kill me, so I can no longer torment myself

Music:

-Spring Sonata - Beethoven (recording: Giora Schmidt and Angela Cheng)

Wow that was a long a/n. Thanks for reading it if you got this far lol

Thanks for reading the chapter!

-MidnightQuestant


	16. Chapter 16

"Look, the Czechoslovak border. We should have easier passage through there. With all the protests going on, we're sure to be able to make it past soon. Anyone we would need to worry about would be in Prague and the other big cities." Emil said. He had a smile growing on his face. This was his home, after all. He was familiar here.

Until now, it hadn't become apparent to Yuuri that he wouldn't be travelling anywhere remotely close to his real home. He had been homesick beyond belief, but the chaos that constantly surrounded them like a storm cloud.

The group continued to the border. They noticed a guard before the guard noticed them, so they looked around carefully, trying to find a free passage. After a considerable time of looking, they found a small path through some trees. They slipped through it, not wasting a split second of time.

Once inside the trees, it was much easier to travel, aside from things that looked like skeletons that had been cast aside. It made Yuuri feel sick to look at the bodies of what were likely prisoners in German camps. He had heard the stories of prisoners being forced to travel miles in the freezing cold, being held at gunpoint. Some were shot of the way to their destination. It had been used as a tactic to get rid of the 'weak ones', as they were called.

Knowing these stories did make Yuuri a little wary of Emil, even if the man wasn't involved in anything anymore. He hadn't really given away any of what he was like before he tried to desert his men. Yuuri wasn't going to pry, but it still made him nervous.

They made it to a shack and they all looked ready to gag. There was a partially decomposed body inside; the body of a child. The body had on the telltale blue-and-white striped uniform with a yellow Star of David on the chest. Yuuri's heart hurt. It hurt knowing that children were being killed off. Children didn't deserve to be hurt in ny way, much less killed. They were too innocent.

The group moved past the shack, all with much heavier hearts. There was nothing they could do but feel bad. The deed had been done and, sadly, the past could not be reversed.

"Look, we're going to have to move in the shadows for as long as we can stand. Czechoslovakia is heavily guarded. We cannot set up camp." Emil explained. "If we can make it to a friendly village, I may be able to convince some of the locals to help."

"Would we be able to pass your hometown on the way to Austria?" Michele asked. Emil shook his head.

"My hometown is Prague. We're going through the southern side, through Ostrava and towards Bratislava. Prague is too far north and it's the capitol. It's probably occupied with hundreds of soldiers. It would be far too reckless." He explained. Yuuri had been hoping for Prague. It was such an intricate city that hideaways would have been easy to find if there had not been soldiers occupying the place, that probably had search dogs with them. Given, they didn't know if that was true or not, but they couldn't take that chance. Not with limited ammunition and hardly a coat on their backs.

So, they set off, long into the morning. Yuuri was exhausted and so was everyone else, but they knew that stopping was not an option. Stopping meant death, as they didn't know when or if an enemy would appear. They didn't know when they would have to shoot.

Yuuri was, surprisingly, one of the last to say they couldn't go any longer. He did have to admit to himself that he did have good stamina, if he had anything at all. Maybe that was the only thing that had kept him in his original troop so long.

"Okay, here's a well hidden area. Let's take turns. Yuuri, since you seem to be the one that's the most awake, you keep guard first. Let us sleep a few hours and you can sleep a few hours after us." Leo said. Yuuri avoided the urge to roll his eyes and nodded, settling against a tree. He made sure to sit up because it had helped him stay awake.

Even if he agreed to stay up and guard on Leo's suggestion of all people's, he still felt his bones scream at him and he felt the headache set in. He hated it, honestly. He thought he might've fallen asleep right there, but he found that a few hours passed quickly. He woke the others once the sun was high in the sky. They then started working out plans and keeping guards while they let Yuuri get his first taste of sleep since the morning before. Yuuri was out quickly.

For the first time in nearly three months, Yuuri dreamed of Viktor. He dreamed of that soft hair and those vivid blue eyes. He dreamed of running his hands through each strand of pressing kisses all over. He wondered how Viktor was doing. His recital had long since been over, and Yuuri hoped Viktor did well. He had been so excited for that recital, and Yuuri knew for a fact that Viktor was a phenomenal dancer, who could enchant anyone with a simple twirl.

Additionally, for the first ever, he wondered who told the authorities. He had been there for a year and a half without a single ip, but then they were there all of a sudden. It had to have been someone. Yuuri didn't want to doubt anyone's merit, but he did want to know who did it. It would give him just a little bit of closure on the ordeal. He would know who to avoid from then on out.

Yuuri woke with a start, but he felt much more rested. He saw that the sun was starting to sink into the horizon as he picked up his things and started walking. They kept going, weaving in and out of trees and avoiding anything that looked suspicious. Sometime in the evening, they could smell fire, but it had a sick undertone. They knew where it was coming from, but they tried not to think about it. They had seen just as many during their time in Poland, after all. Still, that didn't make it any easier to think about. People were burning in a giant furnace because of someone else's hatred. Children, parents, elderly. Everyone was being thrown inside of the furnaces. That had never been a secret to anyone except those who seemed to choose to ignore what went on right under their noses.

"It's hard to think about, isn't it?" Michele whispered.

"Yes, of course. I think too much of the people there. I don't understand any of it." Yuuri answered back.

"I'm not sure. It's like they just don't care." Michele sighed. Emil gave them the signal to be quiet and slip into the trees, which they did immediately. A soldier walked by, along with a line of people chained up. It took everything to keep Yuuri from not jumping out and trying to help those people. They looked like they had given up. Their wrists were thin, their faces were sunken in and they were walking sluggishly. Yuuri died a bit in his heart as the image of such a thing was burned into his mind.

Once they passed, Emil told them to start moving again. They went much faster, but they were still careful to not step on loud twigs and to not trip over rocks that jutted out of the ground. They all almost cried out when they saw a village. Emil went out much faster than the others, who were reluctant to something like this. There were so many people and none of the aside form Emil spoke Czech in the least.

Surprisingly, they were able to have someone provide them shelter for one night. There were some people hiding away in her annex already, but she could sacrifice for one night in the back room if they were willing to help work. That was a small price to pay for somewhere much safer to sleep than outside. She also mentioned that they desperately needed a cleaning. Yuuri couldn't even begin to argue.

When they arrived, they had just nearly avoided a set of soldiers that occupied the town. They didn't have much, so they hid all their supplies in the basement. Afterwards, they were given a key to a washroom and clean clothes. Yuuri doesn't think he's ever thanked someone so much.

The woman who owned the place was named Apolena. She was young, with dark brown hair and green eyes. She was pretty, Yuuri had to say. He found himself feeling nervous around her, and he hated it. He wasn't single. Why was he acting in such a shameful way? He didn't want butterflies for anyone but Viktor. Viktor was the one he wanted, the one he dreamed about and the one he cried for. Not this woman he had just met.

But, she was very pretty.

Yuuri quickly went to the washroom, scraping collected dirt off of himself with his hands, relishing the feeling of warm water, as little as there may be. It was, much to his disgust, the first shower he had taken in nearly a year. There were noticeable differences in his appearance when he finished.

Oddly enough, putting the clothes on was much harder than he had expected. It was just clothes, but he remembered when Viktor had given him clothes in a similar manner.

"Here! These are much cleaner than what you had. They might be a little big, but they'll have to work for now." The man had said cheerfully, pushing a stack of folded clothes into Yuuri's arms. Then, Yuuri was adamant to leave, scared he would be overstaying his welcome, but it was quite the opposite. He stayed there for months. He had fallen in love there. Yuuri would never forget those things, and he would never want to.

Yuuri felt the urge to cry about his love for the first time since he had been travelling. He held it back, though, swallowing the lump in his throat forcefully. He slid the trousers on and was buttoning up his shirt when Michele appeared beside him, tightening a belt.

"I wasn't expecting all this. It's nice, don't you agree?" He asked.

"Of course I agree. What man who had just spent nearly a year without these things wouldn't?" Yuuri answered, with mock incredulousness. He tucked his shirt into his waistband and slid on a belt afterwards. Michele laughed at Yuuri's response.

"You are right." He muttered before leaving the room, Yuuri not far behind. "Emil and Leo shouldn't be too much longer."

The two went back into the main area, where Apolena was sorting cash in a register. She didn't say anything, but she gave them a glance. Michele blushed, pulling at his collar, while Yuuri looked at the floor. He was getting horrible, shameful ideas again. He didn't want that.

"Much better now." She said, her English broken. Michele smiled over at her, obviously finding her attractive as well. Yuuri braced himself for the bout flirting Michele was likely to unleash. He started following her like a lost puppy.

"Looks like he found someone he likes." Emil commented on Michele. Yuuri nodded. The Italian was still fixated on Apolena. Yuuri was pretty sure anyone would be. He wasn't totally innocent, but he wasn't about to disrespect Viktor. He loved that Russian, that much was certain.

In the evening, Apolena sent Emil off to go buy some food from the local store, Leo was sent to go help Michele clean up and Yuuri was brought to the kitchen with Apolena. He heard Leo mutter something like 'lucky guy' to Michele, who brushed him off. Yuuri didn't consider this to be a 'lucky guy' situation in the least. He didn't want any unfaithful urges. War wasn't an excuse for that.

* * *

 **And here we see a scared Yuuri in his natural habitat.**

 **But all jokes aside, I figured now was as good a time as ever to not only really acknowledge Yuuri's bisexuality (which was a difficult thing at the time) and the epidemic of infidelity during wars. Yuuri doesn't want to be that guy. He truly does love Viktor, don't get me wrong, but offers are enticing and Yuuri is kinda desperate for that type of contact. I mean, he hasn't had it since he left Viktor nearly a year ago in their time. So, as much as he absolutely loves Viktor, this type of thing is difficult for him. He's a giant double-edged sword who doesn't know how to say no.**

 **We'll see what he does next soon enough, don't worry. Let's pray his thoughts don't go to his dick.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	17. Chapter 17

Viktor had been getting better. He'd been starting to accept the fact that Yuuri may not be coming home. He may never show up to give Viktor kisses and play with his hair. It was something he would have to deal with and grow from.

This revelation didn't come with it's fair share of pain, but he knew he would have to understand it. The one who had introduced him to this was the cook, of all people. Viktor would never have guessed that the worker could know Yuuri so well.

"Look, I care about him, too. Not as much as you do, but I nearly had a heart attack when i got the news of him being taken away," the cook had said. He had mentioned his name was Aleksandr. "But, sometimes things in life don't turn out how we want them to. This might be the case for Yuuri."

"I know, but I don't want to accept that." Viktor had mumbled in response, messing with the button on his shirt.

"Me neither, but that won't change anything. It's sad, but you have to accept it. My father passed away in the first World War. I was torn up, but I grew from it. I got myself a wife, kids and a good job to provide for them with. I'm sure Yuuri would have wanted you to move on." Aleksandr said, with obvious empathy in his voice.

The conversation had ended there, more or less. Viktor didn't want to talk about Yuuri anymore. He'd simply have to remember him. That would have to do. After all, it had already almost been a year, so what sense was there in truly believing he was alive after getting no word from him. It was even beginning to get hard to remember every detail on his beautiful face. He knew most of them, but simple things like lines in his face, were fading from his mind.

Despite this, Yuuri's smile was still fresh and bright in his mind, no matter how long his lover had been gone. Viktor was sure that that was something that would never change. He would remember that smile for as long as he had a brain to remember it with.

Viktor's dancing had been improving, as he was making a transition back into the person he was before Yuuri became a part of his life. He was lonely, yes, but maybe that was what made him so good. Being lonely gave him less of a chance of being hurt, and being hurt less meant that he wouldn't have other emotions clouding his head. He could fake the emotions, like he always did.

Madame Ulyana had been praising his dancing lately. She had been telling him that all he needed to do was think. She wasn't wrong, but Viktor still internally bristled at the comment. He had been thinking last time. Too much so, if he was speaking his mind. Now, he was gaining the ability to channel what he wanted to think about.

This didn't stop him from feeling cold in his bed at night. He wanted nothing more than to pull a warm, slightly chubby body up to him. He worried for Yuuri's health, if he was alive. Yuuri had been thin when he'd first met him, so he could only imagine what weight he must've been now. He could've only been skin an bones. The thought shook Viktor to his core.

One consequence of Viktor beginning to accept the inevitable, was that he was distant. He didn't randomly giggle and didn't speak unless spoken to. It was majorly unlike him, but he'd rather be odd than crying at any mention of a certain Japanese man.

"Viktor, are you sure you're alright?" Ivana asked him. He had barely been processing that she was saying anything.

"Yes, I'm perfectly alright. Why?" Viktor responded, continuing with his stretches before solo practise.

"Well, you're still acting so unlike yourself, and it's been so long." She muttered.

"Maybe I've just grown up a little." Viktor said, far too offhandedly for his mother's liking.

"You were grown before this. Hyper, yes, but still mature enough to be an adult."

"You can't be serious when you say that. I was beyond immature. Yuri was more responsible than I was. I dragged in strays, I whined when I didn't want to do things, I fought with Yuri and Yakov constantly and I interrupted any chance I got. Clear signs of a total child." Viktor said, finally focusing on his mother's blue gaze. He was so much like her now, wasn't he? Cold and calculating.

"I am serious. You were distinctly you, Viktor. Now you're someone else." Ivana sighed before continuing. "Viktor, I miss my boy. You are my only son, my only child."

"I understand that, Mama. But, now this is the me you're stuck with." Viktor replied, pulling his legs up to himself.

"Viktor, I know you're still recovering, but you and I both know I don't have much time left. I'm an old woman, dear, and so I can't say how much longer I'll be around." Ivana confessed, her voice growing tired. This struck one of Viktor's heartstring. It was a feeling he had been desperate to ignore. He immediately got up and wrapped his arms around his mother, as if protecting her from anything that would ever come near them.

"Don't say that. Don't say that ever again until you are on your deathbed, which will be a long time from now if I have any say in it. I don't want to lose anyone else I care about." Viktor softly cried. He loved his mother, he really did. He couldn't even think of losing her. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her, especially now.

"There's some of my Viktor, the most caring man I have ever met," Ivana smiled, leaning out of Viktor's grasp, pinching one of his cheeks affectionately. "Now, I understand you still need to heal, but I want to see at least one more genuine smile from you before I go, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mama. I will try my hardest to let you see a real smile from me soon." Viktor promised. His mother's smile grew wider as she reached up and brushed Viktor's hair back from his eyes, mumbling something about a haircut. Viktor hadn't even realised. He considered growing it out again, but he figured it wouldn't fit his face now.

Ivana stayed with Viktor a while longer, letting him hug her as long as he wanted. She rubbed his back, telling him that she loved him very much. Viktor could only stand there and take the affection. He had been longing to have someone actually try to emotionally connect to him. He should've guessed it would have been his mother to do as such. He was always such a suck-up to her.

Eventually, she left with one more reminder of the promise Viktor had made her. He would smile for her at least one more time, and it wouldn't just be for show. It would be real and honest and he wouldn't stop until he achieved that. He would get past this grief he had stored away inside of him.

Viktor felt a different feeling run through him. He felt like he had a real reason to live now. It was his mother, plain and simple. She had built up to be the woman she is now all on her own. Viktor knew that couldn't have been easy, being single, running a business and having a son jumping around at all hours of the day. Genuinely smiling for her was the least he could do.

Viktor went back to his dancing, but with more vigour and determination than before. He spun and twirled until he was a little dizzy, and then worked on something else. He pushed himself until his body creaked with soreness. The rigorous excercise always made him feel better.

He hadn't been assigned any sort of music or dance since the last recital, but he knows the big reveal is coming up very soon. It is supposed to be another winter recital, but the date makes it more of a wintery spring type of concert. March was such a strange month in Russia. It was cold, but not quite as bitter, snow was on the ground, but it seemed more powdery and there was more sunlight. It had a much lighter tone. March was also the month of Yuri's birthday, just at the beginning. The first day to be exact. He had always pointed out his birthday, but it was starting to become less of a priority to him as dancing soared higher and higher on the list. As Viktor watched Yuri grow up, he hoped that the boy wouldn't become what Viktor was when he was a younger adult.

When Viktor was about seventeen, he wouldn't have called himself nice. He wasn't terrible, but he was always so focused on dancing and he was so competitive that talking to him was hard. People were intimidated by him and how he seemed to be far too interested in taking every lead he could get his hands on. Once he got out of the regular competition dancing schools offered- where all he did was fight for roles and usually get very upset when he didn't get the role he wanted-, he started falling into a more relaxed form of dancing. It was more leisurely than it had been before. He started making friends then, especially international ones like Chris.

Viktor also hoped Yuri would never have to go through something like what he was going through right now. Viktor knew how much it hurt, and as strong as the boy made himself out to be, Yuri would probably crumple. It wouldn't be because he's weak, but because he has few people he feels he can fall back on. He wouldn't talk to the employees of the home like Viktor did, and he didn't have true parents to talk to. He most likely wouldn't have his grandfather for much longer, either. He didn't necessarily consider Yakov his father, even if he called him 'Papa'. It had really just been because Yuri wanted the stability of having someone allow him to call them that. It created an illusion, and because it was an illusion, Yuri didn't talk to him about those things. Of course, he might talk to Viktor on occasion, but it would only be because Viktor had been through the same and not because he fully trusts him.

Viktor considered doing his own original dance once more after gaining such positive feedback on his last performance. He would probably base his dance around family and healing. More specifically, how family can help you heal. It was a new passion for him. The song would have no lyrics, but would still scream his emotions out. It would be a release.

And a release is what he needs in order to fix himself. He had to get better. Yuuri was gone, and he needed to accept it. He had long since stopped reading the letter over and over (although, it was still held close to his heart on particularly bad days). Even if the man lived, he very well may be in no shape to see Viktor again. He may be so severely injured that e wouldn't be able to see Viktor again, and Viktor doesn't know how well he'd fare in Japan, speaking none of the language, knowing no one and having no clue where he was going. He'd get himself killed that way.

* * *

 **Yes, some mother/son bonding moments! I'm a sucker for them since most fanfics have Viktor's mother be a vapid bitch. I personally love moms in stories, since they tend to offer the most opportunity for development.**

 **Viktor is also a huge mama's boy. He loves his mom more than he loves himself. Yuuri and Ivana are the two most important people to him, and now that he believes that Yuuri is dead, Ivana is starting to take up more space in his heart (but don't get me wrong, he is still very much in love with Yuuri).**

 **Anywho, this chapter was a filler and is horrendously short, but it will have to do. The end is drawing near and I needed to use this as a placeholder for the next few chapters so that they make chronological sense. If this chapter didn't exist, everything would be really confusing.**

 **The next chapter with Viktor will be one of the biggest things, I swear.**

 **Alright, thanks for reading!**

 **-Midnight Questant**


	18. Chapter 18

Yuuri was uncomfortable, alone in the kitchen with Apolena. They weren't doing much aside from boiling water and a few potatoes, but he still felt an intentionally intimate atmosphere. He didn't want that air to exist, but it did.

When Emil returned with groceries from the market, he set them on the counter in the kitchen, where Yuuri and Apolena began to extract them. The other man left, shutting the door behind him. Yuuri internally hated him for that.

In an attempt to distract himself from the looks he was sure he was getting, Yuuri started to peel the potatoes, just as Apolena had instructed. He had become used to potatoes quickly after a life of very rarely ever having them, and usually leaving the skins on when he did. It was strange how much a relationship Yuuri could form with a food item.

"You said your name was Yuuri?" Apolena spoke up. It was a butchered pronunciation of his name, sounding more like Yoo-ree than how it was actually said, but Yuuri nodded nonetheless. She smiled, a soft curve. "You are very handsome, Yuuri."

"Oh, uh, thank you." Yuuri sputtered, blushing. He wasn't used to being called handsome by anyone but Viktor and his mother. It was new that a girl said it to him. "You're pretty as well."

"Děkuji," she said, a gentle giggle following suit. Yuuri felt an awkward twist in his stomach as he fiddled with the kitchen knife in his hand. Apolena continued cutting up vegetables and adding them to the pot, and Yuuri thought that that was the end of it. He felt a surge of relief. He let out a small sigh.

Apolena leaned on the counter when she was finished, watching as Yuuri took his potatoes and began cutting them. He started to tremble under gaze. He didn't want her to look at him. He just finished dicing and slid the pieces into the pot with the other ingredients. As he was turning, Apolena got very close.

"Is Yuuri clueless?" She murmured before grabbing Yuuri's shirt collar. Yuuri didn't want to push her away, and he didn't try to stop her as she got closer, and he hated himself for it. The gravity of the situation didn't really become obvious until she was so, so close to Yuuri's face. He tried to lean back, a weak attempt at keeping her lips from touching his. "Do not tease me."

"I-I'm not teasing." Yuuri stuttered.

"You lean away often. Why?" She questioned him. Yuuri shifted, looking at her. She had a look in her eyes, one that Yuuri had only seen in Viktor's eyes before. He wanted that look to only belong to Viktor, so Yuuri closed his eyes tightly. He heard Apolena laugh before reaching up again. She was so close before Yuuri turned his head away, Apolena's lips landing on Yuuri's cheek, too close to his lips.

"Because. . .," Yuuri started, realising her didn't have a good answer. He couldn't just say he was with Viktor. There's no telling what Apolena would think of that. Apolena smiled once more, moving her hands from Yuuri's collar to his chest.

"Your heart is beating very fast. You must be nervous." She hummed. She grabbed Yuuri's left wrist, moving his hand. "See, mine beats fast, also."

Yuuri stared in shock as Apolena directed his hand to rest upon, well, her breast. She felt heat rise up his neck and curl into every crevice of his being. This was dirty, this was promiscuous and most of all, this was infidelity. At least, it felt that way, even if he didn't want to be doing this. He just didn't have the courage to say no. He just looked away, not moving his hand at all, waiting for her to let go and allow his hand to fall away. Yuuri wanted her to leave entirely and to never bother him again.

"You are a very shy boy." Apolena sighed, laying her head on Yuuri's chest. "So unlike the other one."

"Michele?" Yuuri said, trying to get the conversation off of him, but still somehow seem calm.

"The Italian is named Michele?" She asked. Yuuri nodded with an affirmative hum. "Well, Michele is very pushy. You are not. I like how sweet you are."

Yuuri's brain was screaming at him. How could he do this to Viktor? What kind of man was he? Not one at all, that's what. He felt sick and felt himself begin to shake. This was not good. He looked down, but then looked up again when he met Apolena's gaze.

Then, when Apolena attempted to come onto him once more, he gathered up a little bit of courage, and pushed her off, moving closer to the door. Apolena was visibly embarrassed and offended, but as much as Yuuri hated knowing he did that to her, he couldn't handle that anymore.

"I'm sorry. I have someone waiting for me after the war ends. I'm not going to do this." Yuuri said, trying to sound forceful. He was trying to speak like he had spoken to military officials.

"You could have just said." Apolena grumbled, dusting herself off on her skirt. Yuuri felt awful. He really could have just said so. He internally choked himself to death for being so stupid. "Just go."

Yuuri did as he was told, giving one last apologetic glance before walking down to the basement where everyone else was. He felt like he wanted to rip out his insides and choke himself with them. He just kept hurting people, didn't he? He hurt Viktor by making the dumb decision to forsake himself and now he;s hurt a girl who did nothing wrong. It was all his fault and no one else's.

Yuuri found that the basement was empty. He figured the others were somewhere else doing things. Anything they may have had was set along the wall, and Yuuri stared at the rifle. The little voice in his head came back, urging him to take it and end it all, but he knew that was selfish.

"Come on, Yuuri. You're just hurting people." The voice whispered. Its tone was comforting, but its words were painful. He could have sworn he felt long, cold fingers carding through his hair, the same way his mother used to when he'd get nightmares. "Think about it. You've hurt your family by running off to war in a half-assed attempt at self-worth. You've hurt Viktor by allowing yourself to be taken away. You knew he was crying, but you didn't even turn around to give him one last look. You hurt Apolena by being a selfish excuse for a human being. Why don't you just end it all? That way, you can't hurt anyone else."

Yuuri crouched onto the floor, trying not to cry. He didn't need this, not here and not now. But, that wasn't going to stop it. The voice got louder every day, and was always worse when he was alone. He whispered to himself that the voice couldn't hurt him, but it could. He knew it could and he was just kidding himself.

He tried to breathe in and out, but it wasn't working. Instead, Yuuri just crawled over to the corner and stayed there. He just wanted to be engulfed by that corner. He never wanted to move again. He would be damned if he gave any instance that he was alive.

"Yuuri, are you alright?" A voice asked him. He knew it was Michele. Yuuri just nodded, curling in on himself even more. "No, you're not."

"Just leave me be, okay?" Yuuri groaned.

"Look, Yuuri, we all feel like shit, but we need to get up and go with it. We just pick it up and try our best to not let it weigh us down. Can you do that?" Michele said, sitting down beside Yuuri.

"If I'm totally honest, I'm not sure." Yuuri sighed. Michele said that he understood and, eventually, Yuuri uncurled himself from his spot. Leo was the one who said that dinner was ready. Yuuri wasn't sure if he could eat, but if he was already on bad terms with Apolena, he might as well start being polite now.

Yuuri went upstairs and sat as far away from Apolena as he could. Luckily, no one noticed his strange behaviour. The family that was hiding away upstairs was down with them. It was a family of six. A father, a mother and four children. There were three boys and one girl. Yuuri's heart hurt at the way they looked. They were all so skinny and looked like they were in pain.

Yuuri learned their names, but not much more. The father was Benedikt, the wife's name was Ingrid and their children were Otto, Emanuel, Erik and Cecilie. They spoke very little English, so talking with them was hard. Emil seemed to be having a much deeper conversation with them, though. Leo, Michele and Yuuri sat out by themselves.

Yuuri barely ate more than a few bites before he realised how famished he was. He ate the whole bowl, but tried not to act like he was too needy, especially after the way he had treated Apolena, a lady who had readily landed them her help. The others didn't care. They ate as much as their mouths could hold.

Night came much sooner than expected, and Yuuri and his comrades were eager to sleep well. They had promised that they would leave early, and that Apolena would barely know that they had been there. In fact, Leo went to go wash dishes and Emil kept watch as the Jewish family went back up into the attic. Yuuri and Michele went down into the basement.

Yuuri was easy to fall asleep once everyone had gotten downstairs. He was tired and wanted his stay at Apolena's home to be as short as he could. He tried to think about Viktor as much as he could, but his insurmountable guilt was getting the better of him. He couldn't keep his mind on Viktor. It strayed to the voice the entire night.

"Yuuri," it beckoned him. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore it. "Look at you. You're acting all pathetic and helpless again, trying to think of your little lover."

'I'm thinking about him, yes.' Yuuri thought. He knew he couldn't say anything out loud, as it would probably lead his teammates to shoot him dead, fearing that he wasn't sane enough to keep going. He had been showing many signs of madness, hadn't he?

"Why? What if he doesn't love you? You're a killer, Yuuri. You don't deserve someone as good as Viktor. You know so well that you don't, so why do you keep wishing for him?" It sighed. Yuuri was starting to get an image of what this 'voice' looked like. He imagined it as a big plume of smoke, with a stark white smile full of fangs and long, metallic talons. That's what the voice was now.

'I know, but I can dream, can't I?' Yuuri tried to reason with the voice. It just tutted softly, putting a few talons through Yuuri's hair, far too soothing for the image Yuuri had created. It started to morph. It looked like a person, taller than him. The smile was soft, and there were eyes. They were a soft shade of pink.

"No, you can't. Sinners don't dream, Yuuri, and you are a filthy, filthy sinner." the voice said, as if it were a parent talking to their child. It gave him a poke on the nose with one of its talons.

'How do I repent, then?' Yuuri asked.

"You don't. You can't undo the past, Yuuri, and anyone who thinks that repenting is valid doesn't know the definition of sin." It said. "Everyone will know what you did soon enough."

Yuuri woke up after that. He looked out of the small grate that served as a window and saw that it was morning. The sky was a multitude of oranges and he stared at it for a few moments before going to wake up his teammates. It didn't take long before they were all up, putting on freshly washed uniforms. They were glad to have them after running in dirty ones for no one knows how long. It had to have at least been months.

When they left, Apolena gave them a small wave. Yuuri looked down, and started walking.

* * *

 **Well, there you have it, folks. Yuuri didn't necessarily cheat, but he made a pretty girl mad at him. As horrible as this experience was, it is a necessary thing in order for me to fluidly bring in Yuuri's self-loathing. I hope I did it well.**

 **Short glossary before I go any further:**

 **-Děkuji - thank you in Czech (as far as I know. Correct me if I'm wrong.)**

 **Yeah, Yuuri's self hatred is taking on a form of its own as it gets 'stronger' in a sense. He's starting to associate it with a body, which could be both good because it makes it more tangible and thus easier to handle, or incredibly self destructive because it may make him get a few other problems or it might even make it harder to overcome.**

 **Well, you'll have to wait to find out.**

 **Thanks for reading again! I love getting feedback from you**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	19. Chapter 19

It had been over two years since Yuuri disappeared. Viktor hasn't heard from him, and he's almost glad he hasn't. It's not because he doesn't love him, but he's sure that getting any sort of letter would be too much for him, especially now that he's finally stopped sulking around. He's even given that smile he promised to his mother. Life had been pulling itself back together, and he hoped it stayed that way.

Viktor had heard on the news that the Allied invasion of Germany and other axis-occupied areas had begun. Yakov had celebrated, and Yuri and Viktor joined in. The war was ending and peace could finally be achieved for the first time in years.

"Do you know what this means, Vitya? We may be a winner in this war." Yuri had smiled, grabbing Viktor's shoulder and forcing him down to his height. He was actually smiling, and Viktor's heart warmed up. Yuri was hopping around, saying that they should invite Otabek over later in the evening.

That had been a week ago. The excitement had died down and Viktor and Yuri were back to perfecting routines. Viktor had a new vigor in him to complete what he started. He's been better with the more joyous emotions, so much so that Madame Ulyana had noted his progress. She upped his difficulty level just a smidge, telling him that it would give him a bigger sense of accomplishment. Of course, she was right.

That didn't mean he didn't have bad days, but they were fewer in number and less severe. It was the very beginning of April, and he'd only had two bad days the whole year. That was good, in his opinion.

He had put the letter in a place he wouldn't think to look for it. He knew where it was, but it made it easy to forget. He had slid it into the tiny space just behind his bed, where even the maids didn't look. That way, it was still there, but he didn't have to think about it. He could just have the comfort without the pain.

He had been accepted into a lead role in La Bayadere as The High Brahmin. It was a new experience, being what some would consider the villain, especially since Georgi, who usually played villainous roles, was playing the hero, Solor, but it would be a good thing for him. He needed to be skilled in all aspects, after all.

Mila would be playing Gamzatti and another girl would be playing Nikiya. He was excited to see how they would do in a studio rather than on stage. He could see their progress instead of just the final product.

Still, as excited as he was to see the other dancers progress, he had to focus on his own part. It was challenging, with skill levels changed to match his difficulty level. Instead of third position, he'd use fifth.

"Viktor, come here. There's news." A voice, belonging to Yuri, said from the doorway of the dance hall. Viktor nodded, following his younger brother through the home. The television was on, which was rare as hardly anyone in the house used it. Yuri and Viktor were always dancing or weren't home. Ivana was always at work or in the study and Yakov did the same. Having it on was always odd.

The news anchor said that the invasion from the Allies was going well, and they had already shut down various camps on the western side of Germany. They were going towards Czechoslovakia and Poland to shut down the mass amounts of concentration camps and extermination camps that had been installed in the countries. Viktor had never known the true horrors of these places, but he knew they were awful places used by horrible people. But, he never had and most likely never would see one in his lifetime. Not only was his family highly influential, but he wasn't a soldier. He had definitely heard the news that had shown up earlier in the war, when hundreds of Soviet soldiers were taken into the camps because the Germans were convinced that each of them was a communist.

Viktor still felt a bit put off, and he quickly realised it was because of Yuuri. Yuuri was a soldier from Japan, an Axis country. If he wasn't far away from the invasion sights, there was a chance they would take him as a war prisoner. He didn't know what happened to war prisoners, especially not during this war. He'd heard the Germans got particularly bad treatment when they're captured by the Allies in comparison to other Axis soldiers, even if they weren't a part of the SS or any sort of camp.

Viktor decided not to watch the report anymore, or even be in the home. He was starting to think of Yuuri, and he figured he'd need some air. He decided to take Makkachin out for a walk in the woods, sliding on a light coat and calling Makkachin.

His poodle bounded up to him happily as the door to the garden was opened. He sped out, his paws nearly getting tangled up in each other. Viktor watched with a smile as his dog ran out ot the expanse of trees behind the home. They had a route, and both Makkachin and Viktor knew it well. It went in a winding path through the trees and had been worn down by their consistent walks.

After a while of running, Makkachin slowed to a walk beside Viktor. The two were impossibly close. Viktor had had Makkachin since the poodle was just a little puppy. He had seen Makkachin laying on the streets when he was waiting for Ivana to come get him from ballet practise. He had been seventeen at the time, and was now twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, so Makkachin was getting old. Sometimes, Viktor likes to imagine that he's still the tiny puppy he picked up from the little shoebox, not the elderly dog he is. He doesn't like knowing that Makkachin's life is getting shorter.

But, the fact that the dog was nearly twelve didn't stop Viktor from loving Makkachin. He was a best friend. He didn't make fun of Viktor when he got upset, either, like some of his friends would when he was younger. Luckily, he hadn't seen those people in years, but he still remembers them from time to time and how they would say that he shouldn't ever cry. Makkachin never said those things, but licked his hand instead, until his owner wasn't sad anymore. Makkachin was a true friend.

"Makkachin, come over here." Viktor called, turning onto a lesser known path. He had gone this way before, but it wasn't his usual one. Makkachin stayed closer during this trail, not wanting Viktor to get lost. Viktor also figured it was because he was just a little bit scared.

Viktor led them to the small clearing. He loved this clearing, and always had since he was only a nine-year-old, when he first explored this far. Makkachin loved it as well. Now that spring was coming, there were blossoms the littered the area. During the warm months, the wildflowers were in full bloom, with many soft, yet beautiful colours. The trees would also be flourishing, with leaves that provided shade. He always came there when he wanted privacy. As far as he was aware, no one else knew of this spot.

Viktor brought Makkachin with him as he sat against the tree trunk. That tree had been there for well over twenty years, but it still seemed so young. He knew it like the back of his hand. It was an oak, tall and proud, and he'd sometimes get hit in the head with acorns when he sat under it.

Viktor took some time to think of all he had done in this very spot. He had learned how to write his name in English properly there, he had taught Makkachin how to roll over there, he had cut his hair there when he was having a crisis not too long ago and he had danced and kissed Yuuri there. There were so many different memories under the tree, that it was hard to think of them all, but those were the ones that stuck out to him.

"Hey, Makka, do you ever think about this tree. You probably do. You love coming this way." Viktor said to his dog. Makkachin just let out a tiny yap in response. Viktor smiled, ruffling the curly fur. "Yeah, I think so, too."

He had imagined Makkachin had said that the tree was the best spot in the whole world because so many great things had happened there and it was pretty. He liked to pretend Makkachin said a lot of things, mostly because Makkachin couldn't talk.

Viktor stayed there with his dog until he heard a whirring. His heart stopped. Even if it was most likely nothing, planes still made him unbelievably nervous. He got up and started rushing home.

It didn't take long to get home and see that nothing had happened. In fact, now that he could see the plane, it had been a commercial one, transporting people, not weaponry. He sighed a little and started walking slower. He made it back, not even realising that he had been out for nearly an hour until he looked over at the clock. He was lucky Madame Ulyana wasn't scheduled to be there that day, as she would have been furious at him for missing out on so much quality practise time.

Viktor headed to his room, concluding that today was a 'I-should-read-the-letter' day. He pulled it out from the crevice behind his bed carefully, unfolding it with just as much care. The writing was still there, even if it was a little smudged and the paper was crinkled in places. It still read the same proclamation and it made Viktor smile instead of cry.

He imagined Yuuri was there. He had found that it made it easier. Now, his reality and fantasy worlds weren't muddled together, so this wasn't a risk for an outburst anymore.

He imagined that they talked about the colour red. He didn't know why they did, but they did. Yuuri still had a personality, even when he was only in Viktor's head, so he compared it to his country, and to things he didn't want to think about. Viktor, in stark difference, compared it to dance costumes and the blush on people's cheeks when they got too cold. Yuuri laughed at him, but it was soft and sweet; far from malicious.

The only thing Viktor wanted to then was kiss Yuuri. He wanted him. That's the time he always stopped his make-believe scenarios and went back to reality. He didn't want to fall again, but teetering at the edge was okay for the time being. He could imagine until it was too much, just so long as he didn't fall.

Viktor was called down for dinner about two hours later. He ate well, as he usually did. This wasn't a surprise anymore, which was great. He talked with Yakov on how he felt about his business. Apparently, their numbers had been rising rapidly. He asked the same to his mother, who said things were as steady as they'd been since January. Viktor smiled, and received one in response.

Viktor liked to think of the looks his mother had when he'd smiled for the first time in a while. She had grinned so widely, Viktor had been worried she would split in half. She then gripped Viktor in a hug so tight, he could barely breathe. She was so happy. Yuri seemed happy, too, as well as Yakov. He figured there was a lot of relief as well. They didn't assume he was headed for madness anymore. He knew they would love him either way, but they'd rather keep him sane if they could.

Yuri was talking about his friend. He never stopped talking about the dancer, and Viktor found it adorable. It was the same way he had been when he became friends with Chris. He had talked incessantly about the Swiss boy, the same way Yuri was raving over the Kazakh teenager he had become friends with.

As life was piecing itself back together, Viktor was sure even better things would happen besides as younger brother having a new friend, Yakov having good numbers and his mother smiling.

* * *

 **Ahhh, yes. This is way more important than it seems. That was the intent. There are only a few chapters left now, how wonderful is that? Both great, and not great. I love writing this, but I also love the ending I have planned.**

 **Now we see that Yuuri and Viktor are having very different experiences. Viktor is getting happier and accepting what has happened while Yuuri is becoming his own worst enemies. Considering their circumstances, it's to be expected, but it's still interesting to think about, and I'm the author.**

 **Also, glossary:**

 **La Bayadere - aka The Temple Dancer, a ballet first performed in St. Petersburg in 1877**

 **Anyways, you should totally watch La Bayadere, or at least listen to the score for it. It's really good. Did you know that The High Brahmin is an incredibly jealous man, who fits Georgi's character perfectly, yet they chose Viktor for the role? They literally wanted to try and get Georgi *out* of those roles, so they gave him Solor instead, who's a not-jealous warrior.**

 **Ok, thanks for reading! I love feedback from you!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	20. Chapter 20

The past two years had been hell, but Yuuri had finally made it to Italy. They hadn't made it to Riva del Garda quite yet, but they were close. Getting into the country undetected was difficult, but with some clever sneaking, they'd made it with zero casualties.

"I'm excited to see Sara. You'll all love her." Michele said, getting giddy about being home.

"The way you talk about her, we might mistake her for your wife." Leo sighed.

"Nope, she's my twin." Michele corrected, jabbing Leo in the side, then speeding off. He still had caution, of course, but he was obviously excited. Yuuri would have probably raved about Mari in the same way if they were in Japan. It's the adrenaline of it all.

In all honesty, Yuuri just wanted a safe place to stay. Czechoslovakia hadn't been safe, Yuuri knew all too well, but it had been a short relief. Here, guard was significantly lower. The Italians didn't want an insane amounts of occupation, and as an ally of Germany, they got out of it. That didn't mean there wasn't any German occupation, but it was nearly two Germans for every fifteen Italians. That was incredibly low in comparison to places like Poland and Czechoslovakia, where it was three for every four.

The whole group seemed to be happier. They had seen at least some news as well as the planes. Western invasion had begun, and they were doing well. Apparently, most of the camps had been abandoned or destroyed. This was progress.

"Wait, Michele, we should still stay close together. Not everyone in Italy's friendly." Emil said to the soldier that had made his way far ahead of the others. He slowed, falling back into formation.

"Got it, but I can't help it." Michele replied.

"I understand. I was the same way when we made it into Czechoslovakia, but we need to stay near each other." Emil reasoned with him.

Comments like that always made Yuuri feel a little left out, but he was sure Leo felt the same. Their homes were continents away, so they didn't get to have that rush of exhilaration. That didn't mean the others couldn't, but they wished they had been able to.

They heard a rustle and all turned back to back, looking in every direction they could. It was getting dark, after all, and although that could mean animals, it could also mean death. Soldiers weren't above ambush, and they knew that all too well. A sigh of relief was quickly let out when a raccoon sped out of a bush, skittering away quickly. They turned back, heading in the direction they were originally going.

"We should find somewhere to sleep soon. We should also keep two guards up and take turns. It's easier and safer." Leo suggested. Emil hummed in agreement. They all walked to a spot where it was clear enough to sleep, but hidden enough for protection. It was a small crevice between two rocks, but they weren't about to complain. With a few leaf-covered branches, they wouldn't have to work too hard for good coverage.

After the shelter was set up, Yuuri and Leo were sent to sleep. Michele and Emil set their guns against a rock and looked at the spots between the branches. Yuuri was out almost immediately. He was woken up sometime in the night, switching spots with Emil. He felt the most refreshed than he had in awhile. He put his grip on the rifle and watched.

Yuuri thought about how close they were. Riva del Garda was most likely within only a day's walk, if they worked quickly. Yuuri smiled at the thought. He figured that he might even be able to see Viktor's face again. He wanted nothing more than that.

However, Yuuri didn't know if he would be able to go to Viktor and not hurt him. He knew he wouldn't be the same after this. None of them would be. He had seen how some soldiers came home. They would scream and flail at the smallest things. Some had to even be denied things like kitchen knives and forks in fear that they would hurt themselves with them. He'd even seen someone yell and get his whole family out of the house, convinced there was a bomb. It had simply turned out to be his clock making a ticking noise in the night.

Morning arose quicker than expected. The days were getting longer, after all, so it wouldn't be long before the nights felt like only a blink. The others rose up after not too long, gathering up the few things they had. They all left soon after.

They walked for miles and miles, long into the evening. The sun was going down, but they kept trekking. They were going to make it to Riva del Garda.

But, of course they couldn't be so lucky. A gunshot rang out, piercing Yuuri's ears. It harmlessly hit a tree, but the tree was impossibly close to them. All of them assumed position, getting their backs together and aiming. They waited for any implication of the shooter. Another one rang out, hitting the ground close to Leo, then the person shot again, this time hitting Emil in the hand, where it had been holding his rifle, close to his heart.

Whoever it was, they were out for blood.

Emil had to drop his gun, and in his place, Michele shot in the direction that the bullet had come from. There was a short, pained yelp. Michele had hit a dog owned by whomever was there. It whined before finally giving in to the wound. Yuuri felt bad, but he knew it wasn't Michele's fault. He was doing what he could.

Yuuri was frightened, beginning to shake. He was looking for the culprit. He had proven himself multiple times to be a good hot, but only when he could get a target. Not to mention that he had never harmed another person in such close quarters. He would be able to see this person, then start imagining the crying family this soldier probably had.

No, Yuuri, don't think about that. Think of your comrades.

Yuuri saw a glint in the bushes, and shot. A groan was evident, but it wasn't fatal, as a bullet came right back at him. It missed him by hairsbreadth. He felt himself shake once more. He watched a few more glints pass over to Emil's direction, where the man was still struggling to get a grip on his gun.

"Emil, your left!" Yuuri said. The man looked up, shooting haphazardly. It was enough to get the assailant away from them, but not enough to stop a shot from going in Michele's direction. There was more than one, that Yuuri knew.

Finally, someone hopped out at them. He grabbed Michele by the throat, knocking the Italian down and attempting to strangle him. Michele was trying to yell something Yuuri didn't understand, but it sounded desperate.

Emil was able to get the assailant off of Michele with one shot, right in the man's head. He slumped on Michele's chest and Yuuri forced himself to look away, trying to ignore the smell of iron that was far more obvious than it should have been. Besides, he had his own attacker to deal with.

He didn't want to shoot the man, Yuuri promises that he didn't. But, that didn't change what he did. He shut the man right in the chest, twice, just as he was running up him. The blood was running immediately, and Yuuri was sure he could hear it in his ears, like a river, babbling too loudly. The man even gave him a look, one as if he was begging Yuuri to reverse his damage, as he fell to the ground, lifeless. Yuuri was sure he was going to throw up.

He heard Leo yell. Yuuri looked over and saw a wound in his chest, and the babbling in his ears turned into a full blown tidal wave, causing something in his head to snap.'

"Take him and go." He stated.

"What?!" Emil yelled at him. Yuuri looked him in the eye the best he could.

"I said take Leo, and leave. You and Michele. Riva del Garda isn't far, we know that much. Just take Leo and retreat." Yuuri explained. Emil's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets.

"You're crazy, Katsuki. We're a punitive squad, we don't retreat." He replied.

"I'm still here, so maybe it's technically not retreating, and no one has to know. I doubt these soldiers know any sort of superior we may have." Yuuri answered him. "Just go, now!"

"You're absolutely insane. We can't leave you here!" Emil grabbed Yuuri's arm. Yuuri shook free, looking at Emil once more.

"Look, Michele knows the way to Riva del Garda, and you're injured and yet still stronger than me. You two could carry him all the way to the town without having me to slow you down." He nearly sobbed. "Just hurry, Leo's dying."

Emil sighed, telling yuuri that he was a good soldier, then telling Michele of the plan. Michele was about to object when a strangled sound came from Leo. He then just cast a mournful glance at Yuuri before turning to go. Yuuri gathered up his senses and shot the soldier that had been aiming at the trio as they went down the hill.

Yuuri didn't even care anymore. He knew this idea was suicidal, and he was completely okay with it. He had just killed multiple people in one night and he severely doubted he could make it out alive, so what was there to live for? Yuuri heard the voice encouraging him, giving his cheek a gentle stroke before disappearing again.

"See, Yuuri? See how easy it is to give into who you truly are?" It hissed just before it turned to thin air. Yuuri gulped, shooting down another assailant. He couldn't even hear anymore, the sound of blood in his ears was too great.

He felt a sharp, biting pain in his leg, just below his knee. Yuuri fell to the ground, trying to continue shooting. He didn't want to anymore, but he was almost out of bullets, so he might as well use them. He should pay homage to the people that made the bullet casing and ground up the gunpowder. They worked hard, possibly even unaware of the terror their work would cause.

Yuuri's gun finally ran out of bullets, and he clicked the trigger a few times just to be sure. He couldn't get up, not with a bullet wound in his knee, but he could look up at the sky through the trees. He saw soldiers closing in on him. There were only two left, most likely, and they seemed to be debating what to do with him. He hoped they just left him there to die. He couldn't get up, after all, and he was all alone. It wouldn't take a long time. Unfortunately, one of them raised their gun.

Now, just because Yuuri wanted to die, didn't mean that being faced with death wasn't terrifying. It was a lot like meeting new people, as inappropriate as it was to compare the two. You want to meet this new person, but you still feel that churning in your stomach as you walk up to say hello. Maybe it was even like telling someone you like how you felt about them. Maybe this was Yuuri telling Death that he thought they were nice and that he'd like to take them out sometime.

The soldier lifted the gun, barrel at Yuuri's face. Yuuri closed his eyes, using his last moments to think of Viktor. He thought of bright blue eyes, fair skin and silver-blonde hair. He thought of broad smiles and impeccable dancing skills. He thought of only those things as a trigger was pulled, but nothing happened. The soldier clicked it a few more times, similar to what Yuuri had done, and then probably muttered an expletive. Yuuri didn't know, he didn't speak Italian.

Instead of shooting him, the soldier turned his gun around. The base came hurtling towards Yuuri ramming into his forehead and the space between his eyes not once, not twice, but three times. Yuuri quickly felt himself drifting, the sides of his vision darkening. He involuntarily fought it, but quickly gave up as his vision went blurry and he fell out of consciousness.

Death had finally arrived.

* * *

 **Well, it's only been two days, but I'm back because I really wanted to get this chapter out. Not only did I have it done early, but since the end is close, I might speed up the update schedule and not wait until a week has passed to post. I will just post whenever I have the update ready, which will be at least once a week if I can help it.**

 **Yes, this chapter is a cliffhanger, but no, this is not the end. Just know that. Decide for yourself whether you think Yuuri is dead or not. It is not my prediction to make.**

 **Thank you very much for reading, and I hope to see you next chapter. Feedback is always appreciated.**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	21. Chapter 21

Viktor had been watching the television all day. Ivana was in the office with the radio. Viktor was sure the whole world was in on this, listening to every object they had. The war was almost over. They were only a few hours away from finishing this carnage. The anchors were speaking rapidly, hope beginning to well in their hearts.

"The end of this war is closer than we have ever seen before. We are down to our last few hours." The anchor spoke, his voice heightening with each passing minute. The day continued, and the number of liberated camps increased. A single battle took place, but it was quickly ceased.

It was around six in the evening when the war had officially gone through as completed. Surrender documents had been signed by Japan and celebration quickly ensued. Viktor was smiling broadly, but still felt an ache in his chest. He still didn't know Yuuri's fate. For all Viktor knew, he could have been obliterated when the atom bombs were dropped on the small island country. He may have even been gone before that, being shot down in a firefight.

But, the hopeful part of Viktor, the one that loved and cherished Yuuri, held on to the idea that he could still be alive somewhere. That Yuuri could be safe. Even if he was never able or see or kiss Yuuri ever again, he would be fine knowing if the Japanese man was alive.

"Vitya, the war is over!" Ivana smiled, grasping Viktor and hugging him tightly. She moved over to Yuri, doing the same, before going over to Yakov, kissing him. Viktor was surprised to find that Yuri didn't groan in disgust as he usually did. He just smiled, looking over at his stepbrother.

"You look down, what's the matter?" Yuri asked. Viktor shrugged.

"I guess it's Yuuri. I was hoping to have heard from him. Now, he might not even be alive." He confided. "But, I'm done sulking. I'm just going to have to accept it. That won't stop me from wishing I knew of his whereabouts, however."

Yuri nodded his head in understanding. When Yuuri was here, he wanted nothing more than the other to leave, but now he doesn't speak badly of him. Perhaps there was more respect because of the sacrifice he made, perhaps it was he had realised what Yuuri had meant to him. Regardless, it's been a long time since Viktor has heard the word 'Yaposhka' leave his younger brother's mouth.

Viktor left the festivities early (Yakov had already popped out the vodka and wine, not letting it go to waste), going up to his room. While he's returned mostly to his social self, he still finds that he needs more time alone than he had ever needed before. Luckily, the amount of hours he spent upstairs was decreasing. He just needed to look at something for a moment.

Viktor reached behind his bed frame for something he had not touched in months; the note. It had ended up in an even messier state than the last time he looked at it, but he couldn't help but smile. He felt tears prickle, but the grin that spread across his face was so big it hurt. He told his imaginary Yuuri that it was over, that the war was done. His imaginary Yuuri smiled, and pressed a feather-like kiss to Viktor's cheek. It never quite met his skin before Yuuri disappeared, but Viktor was sure he felt the heat from his lover fill the room. A few tears spilled, and he couldn't help but sob.

They were happy tears, but they were tears. They were running down Viktor's cheeks, dripping down on the bed, soaking the red fabric. The smile still did not leave Viktor's face, as he thought of what had happened that day.

He finally dried his tears by wiping them on his sleeve. Viktor stared at the note in his hand, pondering what to do with it now that the war was over. He didn't know if he should keep it or not. If Yuuri was alive, then why hadn't he heard a single peep from him? He was at a crossroads and he genuinely considered burning it.

But no, he would hold onto it, just in case. He knew he couldn't jump to conclusions, as the war had only just ended, so he couldn't expect anything yet. However, he didn't want to see this note again. It was the past and the past should stay just that. That is, of course, unless Yuuri showed up one day. Then he'd find it just so that he can make sure it's the real thing.

Viktor made a decision after a long bout of looking at the note with longing in his eyes and confusion in his head. He called Makkachin, mentioning to one of the maids that he would be going out and left for the woods.

The pair went to the spot that was covered by trees and full of summery flowers. The May weather certainly did the place wonders. Scents of irises and poppies wafted around the area as Viktor found a nice spot to bury the note. He would treat it with respect, but he did not want it to be a part of his life anymore. He decided that the approximate spot of where he kissed Yuuri for the first time would be the best place. It was in the middle of a cluster of blueish-purple bell flowers. Viktor thought it was a beautiful place to put Yuuri to rest.

Viktor carved out a small hole in the earth, smiling as Makkachin pawed at the hole with curiosity and licked Viktor's hand gently. Then, he folded the note up into neat fours, planted a short peck right in the centre and placed it down. He felt a little sadness creep into his heart as he began combing the dirt over the neatly folded paper, but he needed to accept this change.

This reminded him of the time he had gone to a small event in the city with his friends. It was when he was younger, maybe fifteen at most, and he was intrigued by everything there. Eventually, he stumbled across a fortune teller. She wasn't the typical one you'd hear about, but rather a little sliver of a woman. She was small and frail looking, and had grey hair tied up into a loose updo. She didn't say her name nor did she ask Viktor for his hand. She simply told him to pick three cards from each individual stack on the table between them, one for the past, the present and the future.

For the past, Viktor pulled a reversed Knight of Swords. He was extravagant and overzealous. Viktor couldn't deny it. He had always been one for the glamour that came with his dancing lifestyle. It was something the practically intoxicated him. If he was honest, the glitz and shine of it all made him feel better. More whole, if you will.

For the present, he pulled Four of Cups. Disgust, aversion and weariness. At the time, he had only just considered that he might be gay, and didn't want to accept it, much less act on it. He was disturbed and disgusted with himself. It was a frighteningly accurate card. He still struggled, hence the 'present' part of it, but he wasn't completely horrified with what he was and even found that good things could come from such feelings. He found love in this disgust, and that took courage. That is what he was told, at least.

For the future, Viktor pulled Death. When he saw it, he felt himself get scared, his face turning white. The slight lady held his wrist and told him there was nothing to be afraid of. The card could be translated as literal death, but based on his previous cards, she interpreted it as renewal and rest. In order to be renewed as a better or happier person, Viktor would have to let something go; he would have to let it rest. He now understood what she meant. Viktor was putting Yuuri to rest in order to be happy. Maybe it was also to make him happy. Yuuri would never want Viktor to cry over him. Yuuri wasn't that type of man. He would want Viktor to smile and to dance, and, if it isn't too much trouble, to remember him every once in a while.

Viktor finished piling the dirt onto the card, he picked one of the nearby iris, the colour bright against the watered down hues of the bell flowers, and placed it right on top. He stayed there for a short moment, scratching Makkachin behind the ear, before rising with a sigh.

"Well, Makkachin, I think I can let go now. Can you? I know you and Yuuri were just wonderful friends." Viktor asked his dog. He imagined the poodle replying with a 'Yes, I will miss him very much. He was very good at throwing sticks for me to catch and giving belly rubs, but I know we need to let go.' He was a smart dog, after all, and he would know just how to respond if he could talk. Makkachin simply let out a quick yap. It was all Viktor needed to hear.

The two walked back to the home, a more sombre feeling overhanging them. However, they did not have dampened spirits. Viktor was still ecstatic that the war was over. He just needed to let all of his emotions settle. He waited a few moments for this to happen before allowing himself back inside. He was offered a glass of champagne by Aleksandr, the cook friend Yuuri had, and Viktor smiled as he took it. He enjoyed the feeling of the bubbly liquid on his tongue and savoured the taste.

His mother asked him where he had gone off to, and he simply said that he'd rather keep it a secret. He was an adult, and thus allowed to have such things. Ivana simply nodded, giving the man one more hug before going off with the other. Viktor felt himself swell up at the sight of his family being so happy. Yakov, who was usually such a glum man, was smiling like there was no tomorrow. Ivana had a glimmer in her eyes that Viktor was glad to see and Yuri was grinning and bouncing around.

Viktor hoped the feeling would last forever.

* * *

 **This chapter is pretty short, but it got the message across. It was important, but I couldn't come up with much substance to put it all together. Of course, things will be tied up later on, but I do hope this short chapter didn't leave too many open ends.**

 **Anyways, I am a tad late, especially considering the fact that I said I was speeding up my updates. This one just left me at a crossroads. For at least two days I was staring at a blank doc, trying to figure out which of my three options I should write. I, obviously, chose this one and I think this was the best closure I could give for the time being.**

 **There isn't much else to say. Thanks for reading! I always love feedback from you!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	22. Chapter 22

Yuuri lived. Somehow, he wasn't killed by a bullet wound to the leg, at least five blows to the head, a slash to the face (as insult to injury) and a broken nose. Yuuri had to say he was impressed with himself for surviving, especially considering how little strength he had left.

When he woke up two days later, he thought he was dead. He wondered if the afterlife were white ceilings bathed in yellow light and a comfortable bed. But, when he turned his head to the left, he saw Leo, lying in a similar bed on the opposite side of the room. He had a large bandage and gauze on his chest where the bullet had struck him, but he was obviously alive. Yuuri could see his chest rise up and down. That's when Yuuri realised he wasn't dead, and he didn't know what to feel.

"You're finally up?" Leo asked. Yuuri nodded, still quiet and uncertain.

"I guess I just thought I was a goner. It's really weird to be awake." Yuuri mumbled. "Where even are we?"

"Riva del Garda, Yuuri. We made it." Leo said, with a genuine smile on his face. There wasn't even a whisper of a grimace on his face. "This is Michele's house. Michele mentioned his dad was a doctor at some point, but I didn't know he was a surgeon. How did Michele even get mixed up in all this war nonsense? He could've just gone to university or something."

"Riva del Garda. . .," Yuuri hummed. He found that he liked the idea of being there. All his hard work had been worth it. He nearly felt ready to cry.

"Hey, Yuuri?" Leo started. Yuuri hummed for him to continue. "Thanks for, you know, putting your life on the line to save me, even if we've been kind of shitty to each other this whole time."

"It's really no problem. I mean, yes, it was scary as all hell, but we're comrades now, right? I didn't want any more of us to die, if I could help it." Yuuri responded, trying to fight off his bashfulness with dry humour.

"I'm serious, that was a really great thing you did. You're pretty damn selfless." Leo said. "You know what, let's make a truce. We don't have to be shitty people anymore and we can put aside our differences and realise that where we come from means nothing when it comes to character."

Yuuri was taken aback. He hadn't expected the truce, and certainly not such a sincere one. Yes, a thank you was nice, but he didn't need this. That didn't mean he wasn't going to take it though. Leo had begun to grow on him, and he agreed with the other man's sentiment.

"Deal." Yuuri finished, shaking Leo's hand. Leo said something about Yuuri being way too serious about it, and the two both laughed. Emil came in the room not long after.

"So you're both awake now? For good?" He asked. Yuuri was still giggly, and he snickered at the commander's tone. Leo soon followed. "And you've made amends too. I never knew getting shot could do so much."

Emil helped the two out into the main sitting area afterwards. Yuuri needed to lean on Emil since his leg was still healing, but Leo simply needed some guidance. Michele was smiling, sitting next to a girl and an older man, whose brown hair was streaked with grey.

"Oh, so you're up? Good." The older man said with a smile. He had a thick Italian accent, but his speech was otherwise great. "I'm Luca Crispino, Michele's father. You were in a pretty rough condition when they dragged you down here. Glad to see you are doing well."

"Uh, nice to meet you. I'm Yuuri Katsuki. Thank you very much for saving me." Yuuri stammered, bowing the best he could out of habit. He heard a lighthearted laugh as a hand pulled him up and pulled him into a short hug.

"You're very welcome, Yuuri." He said, helping Yuuri to a nearby seat, realising quickly that the pressure that was beginning to build under Yuuri's knee would cause some problems. The girl then spoke up.

"I'm Sara, Michele's sister." She said. Her hair was a glossy black that went down to her waist and she had the same dark eyes that nearly looked purple. Even if she shared eye colours with Michele, it was hard to believe they were twins. Overall, they didn't look that similar. Yuuri decided not to say anything.

"It's nice to meet you as well." Yuuri said, a small smile on his face.

"Hey, remember what I said. Don't make any moves on her." Michele threatened. Sara gave him a short smack on the arm, telling him to stop being so overbearing. Everyone laughed, but Yuuri just looked with the same smile on his face. It reminded him of his family, the one he was so desperate to see.

"Luca, what's the news on the war? Has it ended?" Yuuri asked. The tone in the room immediately changed as everyone seemed more focused.

"There's word going around that the Nazis are on their final stand. It shouldn't be long," the man answered. Yuuri sighed, as did everyone else.

That all brought Yuuri to today. The war had ended a few weeks ago, and there had been celebration. There was dancing in the streets, music, wine, everything you could imagine. Yuuri watched on, leaning heavily on the crutch he was given, tapping the wooden object to the beat of the small band playing. This was a reason to celebrate. It was over and there would finally be some time of peace. The trains were bound to have been back to normal, allowing different types of people on, which meant that Yuuri may be able to find a way to get back to Japan.

He found himself yearning for Russia, however. He was longing for Viktor's touch and kiss, long fingers messing his his hair and arms wrapping around his body, impossibly tight. But, he wasn't sure he could go back now without hurting Viktor. Yuuri wasn't the same anymore.

It was slow at first, but it quickly infested his mind. It wasn't the same taloned and pink-eyed creature from before. This feeling didn't take on a form of its own, choosing to toy with Yuuri from the shadowy depths. It had been giving him nightmares and making him feel less expressive than normal. He'd been experiencing the sound of blood trickling in his ears as a bullet pierced the flesh of another soldier in front of him. The eyes of the soldiers were burned into his mind and he couldn't get them out. He was scared of what was next if this were to be only the beginning.

In fact, he was more than scared. He was guilty.

Yuuri knew why he was guilty. He was a killer, there were no two ways about it. He pulled the trigger, he allowed the man in front of him to die and he walked away. Even if they were his enemies, he had still murdered a human being, and Yuuri would never forgive himself.

"How are you today, Yuuri?" Luca asked him one morning, meeting up with Yuuri while he was in the kitchen, fiddling with his crutch. Yuuri only shrugged in response. He knew it must have looked suspicious, being up before the sun rose, completely dressed and his eyes darting ever-so-faintly. He had another nightmare and he'd rather not describe it lest he end up with the images in his mind again.

Luca was quiet afterwards, silently monitoring the other man. He handed Yuuri a cup of coffee, and Yuuri didn't even bother putting anything in it to make it less bitter. He just wanted something to distract him, and if tea was the way to do it, then so be it. He sipped quietly, finding it more enjoyable than the first time he had it without anything sweet. Perhaps he wasn't truly focused on the taste and rather the feel of something hot pouring into him.

They didn't talk at all, even when others began walking into the room. Yuuri didn't even look up. The nightmare had been particularly realistic and he couldn't look them in the face, much less the eyes. He felt awful, like he was unworthy.

Yuuri disappeared back to the room he had been staying in sometime in the morning, glad to see that it was empty. He didn't want anyone to see him look like the pitiful mess he was. He started to think about what he was going to do now that the war was over, where he would go. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know how he would do that. He didn't have the money and he couldn't ask Luca for it. Not after the man performed on-site surgery on him and has been healing him back to health ever since.

He groaned, unsure of what to do and scared of when he had to make a decision. Leo and Emil were already making arrangements to leave, getting ahold of money and tickets from their bank accounts. Yuuri's had most likely been shut down whenever he was presumed dead, and even when they knew he was alive, all of his money went to his family, leaving him with none for himself.

"Yuuri, you in here?" Someone asked. It was Leo. He had Yuuri had been getting along better since they both woke up, even becoming friendly with each other. It was hard to believe that they were ever angry at each other to begin with. It was like they had never uttered a slur in each other's direction.

"Yeah." Yuuri mumbled finally.

"What's up with you?" Leo questioned.

"I'm not sure what to do. All my money went to my family and they think I'm dead, so I can't get any money to get home. It's not like I can work to earn it. I'm not exactly in my best condition." Yuuri complained. Leo had a visible grimace.

"If it makes you feel better, I can't seem to scrape up enough to get home, either. I need a plane or ship, so it's nearly the same as a long-distance train, if not more." He confided. Yuuri did feel bad then. He should have known that Leo had it worse than he did. If push came to shove, Yuuri could travel through taxi to taxi.

"That must be awful." Yuuri agreed.

"I think we're both stuck. Emil isn't far, so he's probably en route for Prague within a month or two. I don't think I'm mad, though. Just a little jealous." Leo said. Yuuri nodded. He felt the same way; not mad, but envious. Emil's home wasn't far and this was Michele's home. They were able to see their families already, and Yuuri wanted to be them. He didn't want to be the bankrupt, crazy, injured soldier he was. He wanted to be healthy and sane and in the home he grew up in. It was starting to ache within him more than anything ever had.

Yuuri stood, pulling the crutch towards him and leaning on it. The device had become his best friend, even if his leg was beginning to heal. The pain was still there, stabbing him whenever he put too much pressure on it. The splint on his nose and the gauzes on his face had not come off, so he looked like a mess of stitches and bandages. Leo still had a thick patch of bandages and gauzes under his shirt that stuck out if you knew what you were looking for. Leo was able to hide it under his shirts and tried to ignore it the best he could.

Yuuri didn't know why he was feeling sorry for himself. Leo had been shot in the chest, which should have been fatal. Why was he the one who seemed to need more medical attention? Yuuri still wondered this despite being told that it was because his injuries were on a joint and Leo was there in a shorter amount of time. Yuuri didn't know if he believed that.

Yuuri also wondered if anything, even if the war was over, could return to normal or if it was all lost.

* * *

 **I am finally back! Yuuri lived, just as I had planned. He's stronger than that. I also couldn't do it, not in this paradigm. It simply wouldn't fit.**

 **Anyways, things are getting crazy and relying more on the emotional development of the characters than any sort of world building. Also, Leo isn't a douchebag, he was just nervous around Yuuri because of reasons that could obvious (coughPearlHarbourcough) and the US had a major anti-Japanese sentiment at the time. Japan was pretty anti-American as well so that was the explanation for Yuuri's actions.**

 **Yuuri is also showing signs of PTSD because I figured it was unrealistic for him, being the way he is, to come out of that war experience without at least something similar to the condition. It just wouldn't make any sense if I didn't use that as some kind of emotional setback.**

 **But that's that. Hope to see you next time.**

 **Thanks for reading, I love feedback from all of you!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	23. Chapter 23

Since the war had ended, getting in contact with his friends was much more simple for Viktor. He didn't need more papers than it was worth and the inflation on train tickets wasn't so high. He was glad for this, as most of the money he made with dance, especially now that the pays were getting lower, went to his dance work, paying for costumes, shoes, makeup etcetera.

He was excited to visit Chris. Viktor hadn't been to Switzerland in a long time, and it would be nice to see how the country looked after being mobilised for invasion. Viktor imagined it would be in far less ruin than some of the countries looked, especially the ones he ended up passing.

The Soviet Union's countries had been bombed into oblivion. During his train ride, he saw field upon field of dilapidated homes on the countryside. Viktor had even seen entire skyscrapers that had been pulled to the ground.

He wasn't able to pass into Germany or Poland without a special pass due to war repairs, which spoke for itself. He had seen images of the countries in the newspaper and they looked like the had been flattened entirely. Buildings were blown to bits, forests were burned and homes had been pulverised. It made Viktor sad to think about what these people had seen while he had been well insulated from the brunt of it.

It was hard to think about what Yuuri had seen while he was out there. But, Viktor had accepted the likely reality (which was more certain, since he had not gotten any word from him since the war ended nearly three months ago) that Yuuri was no longer alive. Viktor's birthday was coming up and if he were acting like he had the year before, he would be wishing for Yuuri to come home as a gift, and his only gift, but this year, seeing Chris was enough for him.

When Viktor arrived sometime during the evening, he was greeted by a very excited Chris, who nearly pounced on him as soon as he had got off the train.

"Mon beau, there you are!" He smiled, giving Viktor a firm hug. Viktor gave him a hug back, smiling as well.

"Chris!" He squeaked. Chris coughed under Viktor's hug, and he let the other go with a laugh.

"Goodness, you seem much stronger since I last saw you." Chris said. Viktor rolled his eyes at his friend. "Well, let's go. You can leave your things at my apartment and then we can go for dinner. Things look quite a bit different from the last time you saw it. You can thank mobilisation for that."

They walked to Chris' apartment, which was one of the nicer ones in Lausanne. Chris had always been lavish, and his dancing coupled with his living in a capitalist country meant he could quickly get the funds to afford the apartment.

Viktor chatted idly with Chris as he eyed the shops, interested in the different shops. He figured he should change in his rubles for a few Swiss francs if he wanted to get any keepsakes.

"Oh, are you looking at the shops? There's a new clothing shop here somewhere and I think their selection would look ravishing on you." Chris said, taking Viktor's arm in his. "Here, my apartment is just around the corner."

"I've been here before, Chris. I know where your apartment is." Viktor laughed as he was dragged along by his enthusiastic best friend. He was pulled into the pale stone building and got a few stares, causing him to wiggle his arm out of Chris' grasp. His friend was not upset, thankfully, understanding why as soon as he saw the people eyeing them. Despite the fact that he had gotten more comfortable with himself, but he still got worried when people saw.

They walked up the stairs, separated this time. Chris still talked cheerily and Viktor still listened as he was brought to the guest room. Chris gave him a moment to settle in, shower and get into some clean clothes before they went to dinner. It was Chris' treat, so Viktor wanted to at least look nice. A treat from Chris usually meant something expensive.

Viktor was quick in finding something to wear, getting a shower, dressing and joining Chris at the door. He hadn't eaten since early that morning, so he wasn't going to pass down food now, no matter where he was going. He was led through the twisting streets of Lausanne until they were in front of a glittering outlet, which was very much Chris' type. They were given a table within minutes.

The table was decorated with a white tablecloth and a candle in the middle. There were lights above, but the candles were what provided most of the actual light. I obvious that this was usually a restaraunt used for romantic purposes, but knowing Chris, romantic sometimes meant different things and where he ate was far from significant.

They were given two glasses of wine to drink and Chris waited until the waitress was far out of earshot to begin speaking.

"Viktor, I want to talk about how you're feeling." He said. Viktor quirked an eyebrow over his glass, waiting for Chris to elaborate. "You were in shambles last time we were together. I just want to make sure you don't still feel that way."

Memories of that dance recital flooded back to Viktor, reminding him exactly what Chris was talking about. He had sobbed over Yuuri during that recital, spilling to Chris all the details of how he felt. Viktor sighed.

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm alright." He said, a small smile on his face. "I have accepted everything."

"Accepted? Might you be able to tell me exactly what you accepted?" Chris asked.

"I've accepted that Yuuri is dead. I haven't heard from him in years, Chris. What other outcome could there be?" Viktor answered.

"But you still hope he's alive, don't you? I know you. When you love something, you don't give up on it, no matter how much you've accepted it." Chris asked.

"Obviously I want him to be alive. If I got merely a letter from him I'd start jumping for joy, if I don't start crying first. But, I haven't gotten a thing since 1943, and it's almost 1946, Chris. That's nearly three years." Viktor sighed. "I think I would have gotten something by now. Maybe someone telling me he's dead?"

"Mon cher, punitive squadrons are lone walkers. There's no one waiting to report their death or what happens to them. It's a punishment and almost nothing like normal service." Chris mumbled. "He could be alive. I don't want you to give up on him. I have a feeling he made you incredibly happy."

Viktor hadn't really thought about what a punitive squad was. He was so caught up in his side of the whole ordeal and had never known much about the military in general. Chris didn't either, but he knew more than Viktor. But, he wasn't about give up his long awaited emotional healing.

"He did, but i'm not going to give myself false hope. I miss him, yes, but I was in a sulky mood for what was probably a year. I almost left dancing altogether, I was so upset. Just let me have some closure. Please." Viktor muttered, leaning back. His mood had been quickly dampened, but he threw a smile on as he ordered. The waitress didn't need to be burdened by his mood.

Dinner passed quickly and quietly after that. Chris knew trying to press Viktor was a bad idea unless he wanted Viktor's visit cut short. If Viktor felt like he needed to leave, he would go buy a ticket as soon as possible.

They walked home with a little bit of conversation. Chris was treading lightly, and Viktor noticed but didn't say anything. There was no point in dragging up an unnecessary conversation. When they arrived back at the apartment, Chris' cat circled around their ankles. Chris bent to pick the pet up.

"Hello, Bijou." Chris cooed as the cat cuddled against his face. Viktor wished he had been able to bring Makkachin along. He could only imagine how bored his poor poodle must be without him around. But, he could at least be sure that Makkachin was being well taken care of.

Viktor excused himself, wishing to go to bed. The night's discussions had worn him out. Chris smiled, nodding him off.

"Sleep well," he called as Viktor closed the door to the guest room. He sighed, pulling his clothes off and changing into his nightclothes. He was ready to sleep right then and there, but as he was finishing up with putting his suitcase in the closet, he heard his name. Viktor had a feeling he wasn't supposed to hear it, so he went up to the door, pressing his ear against it.

He didn't hear much for a moment, but then the speaking began again. It was Chris, and Viktor figured that he must be on the telephone, and he considered not listening, but then he heard his name again.

"I'm just worried about Viktor. He said he's alright, but he can hold on to emotions better than anyone, good or bad. I don't want him to hurt himself." Chris said, in English instead of French. It was probably someone foreign. Another pause. "Yes, I know that. He doesn't want me doting over him either, but he's my best friend. Yuuri is yours, yes?"

Viktor wondered who Chris was talking to, and especially why Yuuri was a part of the conversation. Who was Chris talking to and how did they know Yuuri? Viktor listened more closely, pressing his whole body against the door.

"Look, Phichit, I know that you're trying your hardest, but I can't stand seeing Viktor like this anymore. You need to get ahold of Yuuri soon, and if he's out of the country, use the money I sent you to pay for his train ticket to wherever we can agree." Pause. "I know I sent you plenty of money for a train ticket. I doubt he's made it out of Europe. Keep looking in that damned plane of yours."

Viktor felt a little guilty for eavesdropping, and now he had more questions than answers. Who was Phichit? How did this person know Yuuri? How long had they known the other? How did Chris know this Phichit character? How did they know Yuuri was alive? Viktor wanted to hit his head to make the questions go away. Still, he didn't leave his spot behind the door.

"Oh. . . you're right. He probably does want to see his family. It's been what, five years, hasn't it? I would want to as well." There was a long sigh and a pause. "I can't get you two train tickets in such short notice. I have a career to take care of. Costumes and instructors are not cheap." Pause. "No, I won't keep the poor boy from his family, but please tell me you have an idea of where he is now. At the very least we can give Viktor a little closure." Pause. "Somewhere in southern Europe?" Pause.

Viktor felt a strong urge to run out of the room, to go and take the telephone from Chris' hand and ask his own questions. Was Yuuri okay? When could he see him? Was he actually alive? But, he didn't. He just listened, close to tears.

"Northern Italy?! He's made it there all the way from just outside of St. Petersburg with barely anything more than the clothes on his back and a ragtag team?" Pause. "Okay, okay, I will keep it a secret until you've got everything figured out." Pause. "Alright. Ciao."

The call ended there and Viktor began stumbling back to the bed. He got it, putting his face in the pillow. He was confused and somewhat angry. If Chris had someone looking for Yuuri, then why didn't he just tell him? The whole situation was opening old wounds and then, only to make it more agonising, it was as if it was rubbing salt in them. Everything he had worked so hard to understand and accept was dragging itself back up and stabbing him in the back with only the sharpest of blades.

But, there was a silver lining. Yuuri might have been alive and Viktor couldn't be happier about that fact, although he was still a little sad that they were so far away from each other. There was a chance he may get to kiss and hug and even simply talk to Yuuri again, and that fact ripped Viktor's heart right out from his chest.

Viktor cried a little, but he fell asleep not long after. He was happy for sleep, wondering if he could dream of Yuuri and how great it would feel to be wrapped up in the other again.

* * *

 **I am so sorry for how long this took to get out! I didn't know how to even begin to get my idea into story format so I was just staring at a blank doc for a while… so sorry!**

 **This chapter was really heavy, mostly because Viktor learns that Yuuri may (although we know he's okay) be alive. He feels a little betrayed by the fact that Chris didn't tell him anything about having someone look for Yuuri, but he's just happy that he might be able to see Yuuri again, so he can forgive it. Chris didn't have any bad intentions.**

 **Anywho, I should have the next one up sooner, but school is just wrapping up for me with my finals having just happened so I was super busy and then I had a few personal issues to take care of, but it's all good now.**

 **One note I need to make, though, is that I don't have any solid schedule for the summer. I will have very sporadic connection since I'm traveling really far to see some family members and I won't have connection for at least 2 days (a 10 hour flight plus travel time to and from the airports can do that to you. I am not looking forward to the jet lag) and then I don't know exactly where I will be most days so I apologise for that! Please forgive me!**

 **Thanks for reading! I always appreciate feedback!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	24. Chapter 24

Time had passed and Yuuri was somehow on a train to a small town in the southern part of Zhejiang, China. From there, he'd be put on a boat to Japan.

He didn't know how he got there, but he did know he received a letter with the money inside for the ticket and a message saying that a few old friends would be there. The letter said that these people were friendly faces in China. They would go with him to the port and the rest was up to them when they grouped up.

The only thing that troubled Yuuri was that for one, the letter had no return address and was simply signed 'A Friend of Viktor's' and secondly, he didn't know which old friends these people would be.

But, the money was in proper currency that he could use for a ticket, and none of it was counterfeit (Yuuri had learned to check during his days at the inn). Also, he had a chance at seeing his family again! He couldn't be happier. When he read the words 'with this, you can go home', he knew it meant Japan. He wouldn't call anywhere else home unless it were with Viktor.

Even though he was sure people, especially his family, would be glad to see him come home safely, Yuuri still found the idea of going home daunting. They haven't heard from him in years, and some of the people in Hasestu were very superstitious and would likely believe Yuuri was a spirit until they felt his pulse, which, if it were to keep them from hounding him about the afterlife, he would gladly show them.

Yuuri was also worried about how everyone would react to the 'new' him. He was no longer unmarred, innocent Yuuri from the inn by the shore. He was scarred and plagued by memories of what he had to do to people, and without Luca there to calm him, there was little he could do to stop the nightmares and frights. He just hoped he would be able to handle himself well enough to not frighten others.

Yuuri sat on the train still, trying to forget his worries. Instead, he pondered over how big Yuuko's triplets must look now, how the inn was doing and how the dwindling population had changed.

He was sure that as soon as he stepped foot in the town, one of his family members or friends would tackle him. He was looking forward to that, but not so much having to explain the scar on his face and the limp in his gait. He probably would wait until he felt settled to explain it all.

"Biglietto, per favore," Yuuri heard a voice ask. It was a stewardess for the train, and she was probably asking for his ticket. He picked it out from his meager luggage and handed it to her. She gave him a small look-down before punching his ticket and handing it back. At this point, Yuuri was used to getting looked at. He was different, and it wasn't like they were calling him 'Law baak tau' or 'Yaposhka' or anything else derogatory.

Someone knocked on the door to his train cart, asking to be let in. Yuuri nodded, and listened as the door slid open and closed and a man sat down with a slight huff of exasperation.

"The weather's freezing, isn't it?" The man asked, in English, much to Yuuri's surprise. He looked up at the man in slight shock. He was broad and looked sturdy with thick brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

"Oh, um, yes it is." Yuuri replied when he realised he was staring by accident.

"What's your name? I'm Celestino Cialdini." The man said.

"I'm Yuuri Katsuki." Yuuri replied. He hoped giving his name to yet another stranger wasn't a bad idea.

"Well, Yuuri, who gave you that scar?" Celestino asked. Yuuri put his hand up to cover the long scar that went down his cheek, feeling self-conscious.

"I don't even know their name." Yuuri replied, short and clipped. He didn't want to talk about his life as a soldier. He was injured and wouldn't have to go back. He'd much rather forget it all.

"As I thought, you were a soldier. Why else would you be here? For the sights while it was still a war zone?" Celestino laughed a little, and it was trailing dangerously on being bitter. "Do you have anyone you're going home to?"

Yes, Yuuri thought, knowing the other was talking about partners, I have Viktor.

"No, just my family." Yuuri said, in spite of himself. He wasn't risking the fact that someone may not accept it.

"No shame in that. Family is just as important. Maybe you'll find someone one day." Celestino said, cheerful. Yuuri already had found someone, though. Viktor.

Viktor was beginning to fill his head once more with his silver-blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. He was filling Yuuri's ears with his delicate laughter and statements of 'I love you'. Yuuri would find Viktor once more if it was the last thing he did.

"What about you?" Yuuri asked. "Why are you heading to China?"

"Business. Life as a middle aged man doesn't get much more exciting unless you're filthy rich or a politician. Most likely both." Celestino grumbled. "I have a meeting nearly as soon as I get there. At the very least the city itself is a sight to see. I assume you're taking a boat from there? Or is it your hometown?"

"Oh, no it isn't my home town. I am travelling further from there with a connecting boat ride. I'm from Japan, not China. Contrary to popular belief, I stick out like a sore thumb there." Yuuri said, joking slightly.

"I can see why. I've been to both China and Japan. The people do have their differences." Celestino agreed.

The two talked for a while more before the train came to a shuddering stop, the rails creaking.

"Well, Yuuri, I suppose this is goodbye. I have a meeting to get to." Celestino said.

"I guess it is. It was nice talking to you Mr. Cialdini," Yuuri replied once he hopped off onto the station platform.

"Please, it's just Celestino." Celestino replied heartily. "And, as a bit of philosophical advice from one veteran to another; live a little, Yuuri, even with the nightmares. You're young, so you have plenty of time. Don't end up like me."

And with that, Celestino was gone and Yuuri was left in an unfamiliar world with some sort of inspirational quote swimming in his head. Celestino hadn't even mentioned that he was a veteran the whole ride which, by the time he boarded in the northern part of China, was at least six hours, yet he still didn't run out of things to talk about.

Yuuri shook his head, choosing to focus on finding whomever he was meant to find. Yuuri opened the letter he had received and looked for an address, coming up dry.

Oh, the world wanted to see him struggle. Now he has to limp around the town looking for someone and he's not even sure who to look for.

Still, Yuuri sucked it up and began walking, ignoring how small children stared at him and began to point and pull on their parent's clothes. They didn't know any better, but it was always worse when the parent looked and saw his generally pitiful state. Luckily, few bothered, even if he heard a few slurs he didn't even bother with worrying about.

Yuuri wondered how Leo was doing and if he was struggling as much as Yuuri was. He had gotten a plane ride back to the United States months ago, and almost got ejected from the flight because of the injury to his chest causing him mild heart problems. Still, he made it and was likely with his family now, even if he had to deal with his new injury and the problems it caused. They both did and, even if they had hated each other for ages, it made them feel closer. It was the glue holding them together.

Yuuri also wondered about the state of Emil and Michele and if they were doing well. He wanted Michele to stay and help his father with the family medical practise. He wanted Michele to become a doctor and help people.

And Yuuri hoped Emil was back home, safe and sound. Czechoslovakia was now under communist rule and so was Germany. Neither place was truly safe for him, but Yuuri understood that Emil wanted to go back to a place he could call home, just as all of them did.

Night drew near and Yuuri was still limping around like an idiot. He didn't know very much Chinese, so getting a hotel room was going to be difficult, but probably his best option. He began stumbling towards what was probably a place for him to stay. He walked in, hoping silently that the lady at the desk spoke English.

"你好," The lady said, and Yuuri knew that meant hello.

"Um, do you speak English?" Yuuri asked before quickly correcting himself with '你会说英语吗?', glad that he learned a little Chinese in basic training. Yuuri did hate to think that it was because of Japanese occupation of the country, though.

"Very little," The lady replied with a heavy accent.

"Okay," Yuuri began. "I need one room for one night, 请"

She nodded, giving Yuuri the price in yuan, which was the thankfully low, and his room number. He hobbled up the stairs, not expecting help, which he didn't get. His room was only on the second floor after all. He could do it on his own.

The room was spacious enough, with a small window, a bed, a lamp and a bathroom. There was a closet off to the side, but he wouldn't need it. He set his suitcase on the bed, getting out his nightclothes and preferring to take a quick shower before bed. He had been in a train for nearly two days, after all.

Once Yuuri's shower was over, he slid into his nightclothes and packed his old clothes in their place. He then got into bed, turning out the lamp. He felt drowsiness pull at his eyelids, but he didn't want to sleep. Although he'd been a few days without nightmares, still didn't like to risk it. He knew he needed to sleep, but he could sometimes still hear the trickle of blood in his ears and those eyes from that soldier he killed when he and his group made it to Riva del Garda. The look from that soldier will likely never leave him, even if the sound of blood becomes softer.

Yuuri eventually fell asleep, the sounds of boat horns and waves familiar to him. They were almost like gentle hands helping him to sleep.

The tranquility did not last.

The sounds of the waves changed from a blue ocean to a red pool, coming to swallow him whole. Everyone in the streets looked at him in horror. He was still in China, but instead of casual attire, he was back in his uniform. His flag was there and his badges were still intact. There was not a single loose thread. The gun in his hands was fully loaded and ready to fire, and it beckoned Yuuri to shoot one of the bystanders.

He couldn't control it when the gun went off striking a child in the hip. His heart sank when he realised he had hit a toddler, no older than five.

"凶手!" The people began to yell. That meant murderer. They were calling Yuuri a murderer. He knew that he was, but hearing it was even worse. He knew what he was but people validating that idea made him want to run and scream that no, he wasn't. He couldn't be.

The child stood up once more, looking at him as blood poured out of his wound. He was speaking in Chinese, and Yuuri couldn't translate it in his panic. But, then he began to speak in Japanese, and Yuuri could fully understand him.

"How could you hurt a child, Yuuri? Yuuko and Takeshi would be so frightened of you and your parents and sister would be so disappointed and disgusted with you. And what about Viktor, hm? What would he think?" The child asked. Yuuri tried to cover his ears, but it was as if the child was in his thoughts. "You're horrible, absolutely awful."

The child soon began to morph into the unnamed figure. The black smoky outline of a body, the talons and the pinkish eyes were all back and Yuuri nearly screamed.

"Now is as great a time as ever to end it, Yuuri. Just jump out of the window or, better yet, you can save everyone the mess and jump off the boat when you get on. You'll sink." The figure said. Yuuri felt like he was suffocating as the gun fell from his hands and tears went down his cheeks. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't real, it couldn't be real.

Yuuri turned to run, but was met with a small mass of legs. He looked up and saw everyone. He saw Aleksandr, Yuri, Ivana, Yakov, his mother, his father, Mari; everyone. There was even Celestino, and he had only known the man for a few hours. But, Viktor showed the most. He was in the front, his silvery hair shiny and stark against everything as he came face to face with Yuuri.

"Are you a murderer, Yuuri?" He asked. Everything in Yuuri's body screamed 'No, I am not a murderer!'

". . . Y-yes." Yuuri stuttered out, despite what he was saying in his head. He should have known he couldn't lie in his nightmares. They were the truth put in it's real form.

"I should have known." Viktor looked down, shaking his head forlornly. "I should have left you to die by that tree. It would have saved me and so many people all this heartache."

"Viktor, I-," Yuuri began, finding himself choked up as the dark figure that always encouraged Yuuri to kill himself began to slither around Viktor, holding his shoulders. Viktor almost seemed pleased to see it. Yuuri began to scream. He screamed and screamed until suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. He was staring at a ceiling, soft sounds dying on his lips.

Yuuri was awake. It was all fake. None of it was real.

Except for the murderer part. That was all too real for Yuuri.

Yuuri got up, changed into his clothes for the day, packed up and left. Hoping that the supposed old friends were going to be at the port, he began travelling there, just as the sun had just begun to rise.

It made him think of home.

* * *

 **Goodness, it's been such a long time! I'm very, very sorry, I've just been very stressed out with a long trip I've taken to see family (we are quite dysfunctional, even if we love each other). But, I will be heading back to where I live in about a week and the final chapters should be coming up very soon!**

 **Translations:**

 **Chinese-**

 **你好** **\- Hello**  
 **你会说英语吗** **\- Can you speak English?**  
 **请** **\- Please**  
 **凶手** **\- Murderer**

 **Italian-**

 **Biglietto, per favore - Ticket, please**

 **These translations were done using Google Translate, and we all know how reliable that is. If the translation isn't correct and you know the proper translation, please tell me!**

 **Hope you can forgive the wait! Feedback is always appreciated!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**

 **(p.s. I'm thinking of a name change, so this might be different soon)**


	25. Chapter 25

Viktor was looking at the person on his doorstep, confused.

"Wait, who even are you? How do you know my name?" He asked, trying to piece everything together.

"Oh, of course, my bad. I'm Phichit Chulanont. I'm a good friend of Yuuri Katsuki's and Christophe Giacometti's." The person, a short and tan boy who couldn't be past his early twenties, if that, said, "In fact, Chris was the one who sent me to get you. You've got a one-way ticket to China."

The boy held up two tickets, waving them around with a smile. Viktor grabbed them, along with a letter that was also handed to him. He wasn't wrong. The handwriting and signature on the letter was definitely Chris' and the tickets were en route to China. Viktor just didn't understand why he was going.

"Why are you sending me off to China? Or, bringing me?" Viktor asked. Phichit smiled, obviously excited himself.

"We're going to see Yuuri. He should be getting there a day or two after us if we leave tomorrow at dawn." Phichit explained.

Viktor didn't know what emotion he felt when he heard those words. On one hand, he was ecstatic. Yuuri was alive! He was definitely alive! But, on the other hand, it's been so long. What if Yuuri doesn't want him anymore? What if Yuuri found someone else while he was away? What if he just isn't the same at all? Viktor knew war changed people, but it varied heavily, and he had no word on Yuuri's state.

"Really?" He decided to ask.

"Yes, really. We'll meet him at a port and it will be up to the two of you from there." Phichit replied. "I'm just glad to see an old friend, but I'm sure you have a different relationship with him."

"I. . . I may need to process this." Viktor said. He still couldn't shake it. Yuuri was alive! And he could see him! Viktor could practically feel his lover's warm body and see his deep and loving brown eyes.

"Of course. In fact, I'll let you sleep on it. I'll be back by tomorrow morning. You'll need to have made a decision by then." Phichit said. He waved slightly, then hopped back into the car he had pulled in with. Viktor gave short mini wave back, still shaken up. He then turned back inside, shutting the door behind him, and walked blindly towards the living area.

"Who was that?" Yuri asked, not looking up from his schoolbook.

Viktor took a short breath.

"I'm going to China at dawn." He said. Yuri finally looked up, wide eyed. Ivana shot up from her chair and Yakov looked at him, a mix of surprised and angry.

"Why?" Ivana questioned him. Viktor felt the pressure of all of the eyes grow very strong very suddenly. He began to breathe a little heavier. Is this how Yuuri felt?

"May I talk to you privately?" Viktor asked his mother. She twitched a little, but nodded. Viktor led her to an office off of the living area and looked her in the eye.

"Mama, do you promise that you'll love me, no matter what?" Viktor asked. Ivana looked at him strangely.

"Don't tell me you murdered someone." She said. Viktor shook his head.

"No, no, nothing like that." Viktor breathed in a big breath and let it out carefully. "Mama, they found Yuuri. Christophe and a friend of his found Yuuri and we're to be meeting in China."

"To be meeting? On such short notice?" Ivana asked. "Viktor, you're an adult, but you're also impulsive. How can you trust this?"

"Christophe is my best friend and I trust him. And if his friend I was just talking to is lying, I'm willing to take the risk if it means that I could Yuuri again." Viktor said.

"Why are you so adamant about seeing Yuuri again." Ivana asked. Viktor was hoping he wouldn't have to answer this question. What if his mother didn't accept him? What if she hated him for it? What if she thought he was sick and wanted to never see him again? Viktor didn't know what he'd do if that happened.

"Mama," Viktor sighed, looking at his mother, "I love him. I love him so, so much. I love him so much it hurts."

Ivana looked at him for a moment and Viktor felt himself crumble a little, but he kept explaining, even if he didn't understand why.

"Mama, I kissed him and I want to do it again. I want to kiss him so badly. I know that makes me a deviant, but-," Viktor started rapidly explaining before Ivana reached to his slowly body that had been slowly curling in on itself and held him close. Viktor couldn't help it. He began to cry.

"Shh, Viktor.," Ivana sighed, "While it wasn't necessarily the future I had envisioned for you, you're my son and I love you and I want you to be happy. Does Yuuri make you happy?"

Viktor nodded. "He does make me happy. So, so happy." He said.

"Then go see him."

—

Morning came quickly, much to Viktor's delight. He had a small suitcase and Makkachin by his side as he waited out in the front lawn for Phichit. He was wringing his hands incessantly, nervous yet bubbling with eagerness.

Viktor had said goodbye properly to his family not long ago, and he did believe he was going to miss them, but he was too busy thinking about a certain man with silky black hair to really focus on those kinds of emotions.

Makkachin bounded around him, happy to be out in the morning while the air was still a little chilly and the grass still had dew on it. Viktor just hoped that Makkachin wouldn't track mud on the train, which would certainly get them booted from the ride.

Eventually, the same black car from the day before stopped in front of their home and Viktor heard the door behind him open up again. Behind him, Ivana stood.

"I couldn't let you go without one more hug." She said as she wrapped her arms around her son. Viktor smiled.

"I promise I'll find some way to get ahold of you once I'm there. I'm sure someone would let me use their telephone. If i do decide to stay longer than planned, I'll write you as much as I can." Viktor said, hoping to soothe Ivana's worries. His mother nodded, planting a kiss on his cheek before letting him go to pick up his suitcase and put Makkachin on his leash. He gave one last wave before darting down the lawn towards the car.

Phichit met Viktor at the gate with a grin firmly in place.

"So, I take it you're going, yeah?" Phichit asked. Viktor nodded vigorously.

"I hope there's enough room for Makkachin here. I promise he's a good dog and won't try to jump out the window." Viktor said. "I couldn't bear to leave him behind and he's getting old. I should take him to see the world as he grows older. Doggy retirement."

Phichit laughed. "Of course, as long as you sit in the backseat with him and keep him out of trouble." He gave Makkachin a gentle pat on the head. "But, it looks like he'll be a good dog."

They loaded into the car, which Viktor quickly figured out was a taxi, and drove off. Makkachin simply watched the window as he lay against Viktor's thigh. He didn't have a whole lot of energy to be excited about poking his head through the windows anymore. Viktor frowned at the thought and gave his poodle a gentle scritching behind his ear.

The ride to the station was short, and he grinned ecstatically once they were there. After a small bout of "I'll take the bill", "No, I'll take it" was done, Phichit ended up paying the driver and walking into the station with Viktor.

They were so close and Viktor could feel the readiness tingling through his body.

—

The train was almost at their destination. Viktor could see the next station coming into view as he stared out the window. He wanted to screech, as he was delighted at what was to come, but many would be put off by a tall, Russian man squealing as if he were a child.

He and Phichit stepped off the train, both of them smiling. They were both close to Yuuri, apparently, so it was to be expected.

"Okay, Viktor, I have someone here that has somewhere for us to stay for the night, and we can leave for the port, which is the meetup point, where we should be seeing Yuuri." Phichit explained. Viktor just nodded, half-listening as he looked around. He looked so different from everyone else. All the people he saw had dark hair, dark eyes and tan skin. Viktor, on the other hand, had impossibly pale hair, light eyes and fair skin. He definitely stuck out.

Phichit led Viktor through the unfamiliar country with ease, and they ended up at a place that Viktor couldn't make out the name of. He absentmindedly wondered if this is how foreigners felt when they came to the Soviet Union and couldn't read Cyrillic.

"It's a hotel. No real official name other than 'Port Hotel', but it's a nice little place." Phichit spoke up as they walked through the door. Viktor nodded. Phichit walked up to the counter and immediately began to speak with the lady at the small desk. Viktor did all he could to keep from gaping until the lady went through the back door.

"You speak Chinese? I never would have guessed." Viktor said.

"I get that a lot. And yes, I do. In fact, I speak English, Chinese, Dutch, Thai and Japanese. I needed to in order to just live in the various training fields I went to while I was learning to pilot." Phichit said.

"You're a pilot?"

"Yes, I am." Phichit sighed, looking back at the desk, where an even smaller man had come out. The two began talking with what looked like friendly ease. They even seemed to joke a little.

The two were led up to a room in the hallway to the left, and were given keys.

"Oh, I almost forgot; Viktor, this is Guang-Hong, a friend of mine," Phichit said suddenly. He then said something to Guang-Hong, gesturing towards Viktor. He could only assume it was an introduction. Viktor smiled a little and waved gently. Guang-Hong did the same before replying to Phichit.

"He says that it's nice to meet you and that if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." Phichit said. Viktor returned the pleasantry through Phichit and walked into their room, careful not to hit his head on the doorway that hung just a little too low.

From there, the night died down easily. They didn't eat that night, neither of them hungry after purchasing from the cart on the train. The two were left in silence, mostly since the hotel lacked a radio, except for the bustling outside.

"So, I have a question I am absolutely obliged to ask as Yuuri's friend," Phichit said at some point. Viktor couldn't tell how late it was.

"What would that be?" He replied.

"Do you truly love and cherish him as much as Chris has told me you do?" Phichit interrogated.

"I guarantee I love him more than Chris said I do. And, because I know where this conversation is going, I would never dare lay a violent pinky on him. I would absolutely never hurt him on purpose. He's too precious." Viktor said, and he meant it. God, did he mean it.

"That better be true, or there will be absolute hell to pay. Understand, Nikiforov?"

"Of course,"

Viktor went to sleep after that, wanting only to dream of Yuuri and each perfect part of him. Even if he was happy, he still had that small, gnawing fear that nothing would be the same between he and Yuuri, but he couldn't let that get in the way. He loved the man too much.

He, embarrassingly enough, dreamt of a lot more than Yuuri's smile, and woke up sweating and desperate for a cold shower. Viktor made sure Phichit was still asleep on the bed at the other end of the room before he dragged himself out of bed to take said cold shower. He could use a shower in general.

The morning drew on and Viktor became more ecstatic. His thoughts were exclusively of Yuuri and nothing more. God, he wanted to hold him so badly. He wanted to slam his lips on Yuuri's like they do in one of the romance novels he read when he was a teenager because he thought they would be smuttier than they actually were.

Once they were on the port, they waited patiently as the sun rose up in the sky. There weren't many people out on the docks at this point, only workers and some early passengers, but Viktor liked it. It was a lot like the docks in St. Petersburg he'd go to with his friends after dance school when he was still attending.

Suddenly, Makkachin yipped and started pulling on his leash, and Phichit shot up, so Viktor naturally shot his head in the same direction.

There he was. Yuuri was right there, tangible, breathing, smiling like an idiot and frozen in spot, just like Viktor. Viktor felt his throat tighten as he dropped Makkachin's leash. The poodle quickly darted to Yuuri and began pawing up at him excitedly. Viktor finally started to break out into a run towards Yuuri. They hugged immediately upon contact, holding each other tight enough to suffocate as they fell to the deck with a thud.

Once they were on the ground, Viktor stared into Yuuri's eyes, looking at him in awe.

"You're real, right?" He asked with a gentle laugh.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Are you real?" Yuuri whispered in response. Viktor breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah, I think so." He replied, trying to take in all of Yuuri so he had another image of Yuuri to burn into his brain. There was a new scar on his perfect lips, running up his cheek a little, but that didn't make him any less beautiful. He was still gorgeous to Viktor. The only thing Viktor wanted to know was who did so he knew whose head to be on the lookout for.

The pair got up, realising that the docks in front of people probably wasn't the best place to kiss each other, regardless of how much they wanted to. They just kept within very close distance of each other, glancing over at one another with smiles that easily took up their entire faces.

"Well, I just feel ignored," A voice broke them out of their hazes as Yuuri looked behind him to see Phichit.

"Phichit! I haven't seen you for, what, eight years now? You look like you're getting around well." Yuuri said. Phichit smirked proudly.

"Yep, I'm not the little student pilot you took in years ago anymore! I'm a my own damned pilot now. Got my own plane." He said. Yuuri smiled back at him before directing his attention downwards.

"And hello, Makkachin! I've missed you as well!" Yuuri cooed at the dog, letting the poodle hop up onto his shoulders and lick his face. The two did get along very well. Yuuri was definitely a dog person.

Everything finally settled down from the high of seeing each other again and the group stood on the docks as the sun got higher in the sky. Phichit wandered off, claiming he couldn't miss his train, giving Yuuri a very short (and friendly, Viktor would have thrown a fit if it were any other feeling) hug as Phichit left. This left Yuuri and Viktor alone.

"Well, Viktor, I have a proposition for you." Yuuri said, grabbing both of Viktor's hands in his and running his fingers over his knuckles. They were less of a centre of attention now that there was more hustle and bustle on the docks.

"What is it?" Viktor asked, wishing so desperately that he could kiss Yuuri as hard as he wanted to.

"I'm supposed to be getting on a boat to Japan today and I have an extra ticket," Yuuri said, "and I was wondering if you'd like to come with me. You don't have to stay forever, but I can't bear to part with you right now. Will you come?"

Viktor took a deep breath, looked around to make sure no eyes were on them and gave Yuuri a chaste kiss that didn't even last half a second. Despite its shortness, it still felt as good as ever. Then, he answered.

"Sure,"

* * *

 **Hey there, it's me! Finally back with this!**

 **I am actually quite proud of this chapter. It is one of my longer ones (totaling 2800 words exactly. I was proud of that), so I'm glad to see it go the way I wanted it to. There's also more humour in this than most of the chapters, mostly because it was a happy chapter and Viktor is quite the funny person to write about. (He would totally read romance novels, hoping for smut. He was a teen in 1930s Russia, that was as close to porn as he could get).**

 **Yay! Guang-Hong made an appearance!**

 **Viktuuri is back together everyone! I won't separate them again, I swear. And, that's mostly because this story is almost over. This will be the last official chapter, with only an epilogue left! It's been a long ride, but we're reaching our last bit.**

 **But, as always, thanks for reading! Feedback is absolutely always appreciated!**

 **-MidnightQuestant**


	26. Epilogue

A life full of painful blisters, plastic smiles, dazzling lights and glittering costumes all led up to now, Viktor thinks as he watches Yuuri, his Yuuri, stand against the railing of a boat, wind blowing his hair back. Yuuri feels eyes on him, turning around to see Viktor, grinning and beckoning him closer. The Russian man took quiet steps and stood next to the other, looking out at the sea. He'd never been on such a big vessel before, so the idea of being out in such an open area of nothing but water was daunting, but he'd overcome his initial nervousness if it meant he could stay next to Yuuri. He wanted to remain close, forever.

"It's crazy, don't you think?" Yuuri started, "This time, one year ago, I was desperately trying to keep my body above ground, much less looking for a way home. But now, I'm here, on my way back to Japan for the first time in almost seven years."

"I suppose so." Viktor said, trying to keep his eyes off of the Japanese man. He had missed him so much, and even if they'd been on the small ship for three days, it still had only felt like they just reunited a few minutes ago. They had barely left each other alone since. If he could have this intense feeling of longing after just three years, he could only imagine how his family must feel after seven years.

They stayed in silence, not quite daring enough to touch where any other patrons of the boat could see, but that didn't bother them. Being close but not touching was much better than what had occurred in the past three years.

"Hey, come on. Let's go back to the cabin." Yuuri said suddenly once the sun had begun to go down. He pushed himself off the railing with a stumble and began to limp towards the lower deck. Viktor took a deep breath -the state of Yuuri's gait was still hard to watch- and followed quietly until they reached their room. Yuuri immediately flopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh before he patted the edge of the bed. Viktor flopped down right next to him, getting close to the heat of Yuuri's body. He pressed himself against his lover. "You know, I brought us back here because I have a gift for you."

"A gift? Yuuri, you didn't have to." Viktor said, feeling bad that he hadn't thought of a gift.

"I wanted to. I was able to buy these off of a merchant on deck yesterday morning. I thought that you'd like it." Yuuri said, sitting up and pulling a folded cloth out of his pocket. He unraveled it to show reveal two gold, glittering rings. Viktor felt his heart swell.

"Yuuri. .," Viktor began as he sat up with Yuuri, breathless, "is this a marriage proposal?"

"Uh, well," Yuuri stuttered, his face turning a violent shade of red, "I suppose it is. I know we can't get it officially done, but this is better than nothing, right?"

Viktor smiled, feeling like he was about to burst. He began to chuckle lightly as he lunged for Yuuri, pulling him down in a tight hug. He mumbled nonsensically as he pressed his face into the crook of Yuuri's neck.

"Uh, let me do this officially," Yuuri stammered as Viktor looked up at him. Yuuri grabbed the other man's hand, his fingers shaking a little as they ran over Viktor's knuckles. "Will you let me take care of you?"

Viktor looked at him for a moment. Viktor was aware that most cultures used rings, even if his own did not, but he had never heard of a proposal like that. Still, he smiled and nodded. It didn't matter what Yuuri said. He'd stay with him no matter what. He wasn't going to let him go again like he did all those years ago.

Yuuri took one of the rings out of the cloth and carefully spread Viktor's fingers apart. He then slid the gold band up Viktor's finger, looking concentrated, yet also nervous. Viktor could only focus on Yuuri as he felt metal slide across his skin.

Yuuri looked up, his face flushed pink, but smiling all the same. Viktor silently reached behind Yuuri, grabbing his partner's hand.

"You know, we usually don't use rings in Russia." Viktor mumbled as he put the ring on Yuuri's finger. He thought the gold accented Yuuri's skin perfectly. Yuuri jolted quickly.

"I-I'm sorry," He stuttered, "what do you do then?"

"As gorgeous as these rings are and as dearly as I will hold mine close to me, we usually just seal it with a kiss." Viktor responded, getting close to Yuuri's face. "Will you let me kiss you? Just to make it authentic, of course."

Yuuri could only nod, closing the space before Viktor even had time to move. There was that same feeling of electricity and warmth Viktor had the first time as he made sure his eyes were closed and he wasn't just glazing over.

They parted after what felt like a long time but also a time far too short. Yuuri began to giggle, followed suit by Viktor. Arms wrapped firmly around shoulders and waists as the two tangled themselves up on the bed.

"I love you, Yuuri." Viktor said, holding Yuuri close to him. Yuuri sighed against Viktor's chest, nuzzling himself closer.

"I love you too, Viktor. More than anything in the world." He said. "わたしは、あなたを愛しています。"

"What does that mean?" Viktor questioned, putting his fingers in Yuuri's hair. He nearly forgot just how soft it was.

"It means," Yuuri paused, likely blushing, "it means 'I love you.'"

"Well if we're going to be talking in our different languages," Viktor stated, "then I say 'Я люблю тебя.'"

"I assume that means 'I love you'. It does, right?" Yuuri asked. Viktor chuckled softly, pressing his cheek against Yuuri's head softly.

"Yes, of course it does." He replied. "Also, if we're going to be husbands, I think you can call me 'Vitya'."

"Vitya?"

"Yes, please call me Vitya. May I call you 'Yuura'?"

"Of course."

They both then quieted down, listening to the sounds of the waves crash against the hull of the ship as the boat progressed onwards.

 **END**

* * *

 **Whew, that was quite short, but epilogues always tend to be that way. It also took far too long and I am so sorry. I wanted a short epilogue, but not a halfassed one.**

 **Yes, this will be the final chapter of this story. All that pain and happiness has led us up to this point.**

 **What does the future have in store for Yuuri and Viktor? Well, in my head, they do get to see Yuuri's family. Viktor gets to meet them all and immediately gets along with everyone despite people being iffy about him and language/cultural barriers. After spending upwards of two months there, they make a proposal to move to Paris and start a dance studio (they both retire, of course, Viktor due to his age and Yuuri due to his injured veteran status)(and also they do this). Before moving, though, they do go and see Viktor's family once more. Ivana, Yakov and Yuri are visibly relieved to see that Yuuri is alive and kicking because they did get attached to him in the time that he was there. They don't live much past the 1980s (they were born in the 1910's - early 1920's, so it was unlikely they would live much longer than that), so they don't get to be officially married, but they're together and happy and that's good enough for them.**

 **I'm the author and I declare their happiness canon.**

 **Also, since I know it wasn't clear and none of the characters ever find this out, the person that reported Yuuri was actually that maid that was wary of Yuuri in chapter 5. She was 'the wariest' after all. She actually dies while Yuuri is gone from old age. She's actually not a bad person. She thought she was helping. Pls don't hate on Mrs. Maid.**

 **If you have any other questions about the universe of this story, feel free to ask : )))**

* * *

 **Translations (used google translate, please tell me if they are wrong):**

 **わたしは、あなたを愛しています。- I love you**

 **Я люблю тебя. - I love you**

* * *

 **Anyways, this story has been one long ride. On October 13, it will have been 9 months since the first chapter of this story was published. That's absolutely crazy.**

 **Also, the insane amount of support I have gotten from each and every one of my readers is tremendous and I cannot thank you enough for first of all staying with me through all my accidental and unannounced hiatuses, but through all the fillers chapters as well. 7k + views was not a view count I could have even thought of getting with this modest story I came up with on a whim.**

 **Everyone who gave me favourites and followed my story, I absolutely adore you. They are so much more to me than a number. They are each a reason that I kept writing this story, even when I ran fresh out of ideas. You were people who actually liked my story and hit those little buttons. Thank you so so much.**

 **Everyone who commented, you all warm my heart so much. Comments are my absolute favourite and the amount I got made me feel like people really did appreciate what I was doing. I want to personally thank everyone who left me even the smallest comment. You are also one of the main reasons I kept up with this story, even when it was hard.**

 **Thank you all so much. You can't even fathom how grateful I am for all of you and the support you have given me.**

 **For now, this story is over. I hope to see you in another  
**

 **Sincerely, with all my heartfelt gratitude,**

 **MidnightQuestant**


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